


The Lost Prince

by Ditherpunk



Series: The Lost Prince [1]
Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama & Romance, F/M, Gen, Multi, Story Arc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:33:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21796150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ditherpunk/pseuds/Ditherpunk
Summary: This is the story of Jude Duarte and Cardan Greenbriar, if events had gone differently than they did in the books.Madoc never did find Jude and her family, and so she grew up in the human world. Meanwhile, Cardan is exiled from Faerie for the crime he was tricked into committing. This is the story of the people they would be if the coin flip landed the other way and of how fate has a way of catching up in the end.
Relationships: Jude Duarte/Cardan Greenbriar
Series: The Lost Prince [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570636
Comments: 35
Kudos: 165





	1. Chapter 1

_Jude walked through a forest path strewn with golden leaves, amongst trees hanging with ripe, tempting looking fruit. She knows this path well even though she’s never been here before. Her feet are bare and covered in muck, but the white hem of the dress she wears is pristine even though it grazes her ankles. If this wasn’t a dream, she would have found that detail quite odd. The material felt like air against her skin. No, it felt as light as a thought._

_She heard snatches of laughter from just beyond the trees. She smiled without understanding why she felt so buoyant. A twig snapped under her feet, and she looked down to see that her foot was bleeding, but she didn’t feel any pain, and anyway, she was near to the end of it now._

_She could see the two people waiting for her now. It seemed like she came here to visit every night these days, even though she hadn’t seen her mother in years, not since the disease had taken her years ago. But her mother was healthy and whole now, smiling down at her with the same yellow cat-slit eyes as Jude’s sister, Viviene._

_The man next to her was smiling at her, too. His teeth were pointed, and the fingers on the hand he held out to her ended in sharp, black claws. She reached for it, anyway, knowing that this was how it was meant to be. There was no laughter in the distance anymore. There was nothing but this smiling man with sharp teeth, her dead mother, and a dark pressure that seemed to squeeze her heart. It felt like fear._

I wake with a start, exactly ten seconds before my alarm is about to go off. I grab for my phone and quickly turn it off before it can wake my twin sister, Taryn, who is still sound asleep on the other side of the room. I’ve been having the same dream every night for months now, and it wakes me with my heart pounding and an inexplicable fear filling the very marrow of my bones like clockwork at the darkest moment before dawn breaks.

I try to control my breathing, but they still come out in shuddering gasps. I pull my blanket around me tighter and hug my knees to my chest as if curling in on myself will protect me from the baseless terror that seems to plague me every night. I don’t understand what this is or why it bothers me so. Vivi believes it’s some kind of repressed trauma from losing mom all those years ago that I never quite got over, but it doesn’t feel like this is a fear of the past. This feels like the dread of something terrible to come.

The more I try to think about it, the more difficult it is to hold on to any semblance of sense. The details, already vague and dreamlike, slip out between my fingers like sand in an hourglass. The sun rises outside, and the rays of light creep into the room I share with my sister through the half-drawn curtains.

My sister shifts in her sleep as the sunrise touches her face, and she opens her eyes groggily to the morning. She is soft and warm in all the ways I am not, and moments like these make me feel like I am gazing into a mirror. We are identical but flipped. We are mirror images of each other. She notices me looking at her and grins.

“You’re still wearing that silly thing.”

I look down at the strand of rowan berries peeking out of my haphazardly buttoned pajama shirt. When we were young, mom used to make us necklaces from the rowan berry bushes that grew in our yard, and after she passed it turned into a sort of tradition in the family. We wear them for luck on days when we have a recital, or important exams, or a driving test. I’ve taken to wearing them on a daily basis since the nightmares have begun to haunt me. Maybe I am dealing with some kind of repressed trauma.

“You can never have too much good luck,” I tell her.

“Ain’t that the truth.” Our older sister, Viviene, stomps into our room, already fully dressed and throws open our curtains all the way. I squint at the sudden light hitting me in the face and grumble something incoherently, but Vivi ignores me and flops on to the edge of my bed.

“You guys are going to come to the gig tonight, right?”

Vivi is in a rock band that recently signed with a major label. She was always different, but the kind of different that made her alternative rather than an outcast. She gets to play music at music festivals, now. She also has a talent for charming you into doing mischief with her.

I shared a look with Taryn. She chews on her lip, but I’m the one to speak up. “You know we want to, Viv. But dad is going to ground us for a decade if he finds out overnight. He isn’t happy about it with you, but at least you’ve graduated. He thinks of you as an adult.”

She waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about dad, I’ll handle it. Besides, it’s not like I’m dragging you guys to a different state. We’re practically going to be camping out in our own backyard. If you want, you can probably just trek back home after the show is over.”

She grins mischievously before adding, ”But then you’ll miss out on the real fun of the festival.”

It’s difficult to resist Vivi, so we don’t. “We’ll be there.” Taryn answers for us both, and Vivi springs off my bed with a whoop and charges out of the room like a storm.


	2. Chapter 2

I haven’t felt well-rested in a while, and that combined with excitement for tonight has left me with an inability to concentrate in class today. I doodle idly in the margins of my notebook as the classroom slowly fills up.

Chemistry is one of the two classes that I do not share with my sister, the one time I'm left to fend for myself socially. Naturally, that means I sit at the solitary island at the back of the room. We're supposed to work in groups of two, but my partner has been a flake all semester and so it's just me.

It's not that I'm a social pariah or anything, but I don't have a group that I click with and regularly hang around, unlike Taryn. She's much more of a social butterfly than I am. But there are benefits to that, too. I'm automatically invited to everything that my popular sisters are involved in.

Sometimes, it feels like I live in their shadow, but it's not something I can bring myself to resent. I enjoy having my moment every once in a while, but I don't thrive in the spotlight in the same way that they do.

"Thorne didn't show up again, huh?" Casper Garette takes the empty seat beside me.

"Hasn't shown since the first day of the semester. I'll be shocked if we ever see him again."

I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks right now, but I try to be nonchalant about it in the hope that Casper won't notice. It may be a vain hope since there is a cleverness in his hazel eyes that tells me that he misses nothing. It's a big part of why I have a massive crush on the guy. He leans in towards me conspiratorially, and I feel my heart skip a beat. His sandy hair falls over his forehead as he says,

"Don't worry, one of these days you'll find a real biscuit."

It takes me a second to realize that he's talking absolute nonsense. "Huh?" is my clever response.

He grins triumphantly and continues, "You know, instead of all these flakes."

I want to laugh and groan in equal measure. I'm saved having to respond to that by the bell, and the teacher entering the room.

We fall into a companionable silence as the teacher begins to speak. There's a hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth whenever I sneak peeks at him during the lecture. I know that I should pay more attention than I do because my notes are distressingly sparse and haphazard today, but I am gathering the courage to break out of the bubble I've been sitting in for most of my life. I don't know why it's so difficult, but it is.

I try to control my breathing as best as I can, and when the bell signifying the end of the class rings I turn around to Casper and blurt out, "Do you want to go to the festival with me tonight? My sister is playing."

His eyebrows shoot up comically as if he didn't see this coming. I guess I didn't, either.

"Taryn plays in a band?"

"Our older sister, Viviene. She's in Buzzkill, they're one of the opening acts."

"Oh, no shit?" He seems genuinely excited, which I take to be a good sign. "I was going to go with some friends anyway, but I'd love to hang out with you guys. I'm sure we'll run into each other."

It wasn't until later that night after Taryn finished painting our faces with layers of makeup and we're dressed up and piled into the back of her friend's secondhand minivan that I realize Casper never actually said yes to my invitation to spend time together. The sting of embarrassment only lasts a few moments, however, until I’m swept into the noise and excitement of the festival.

We live in a mid-sized town, so this isn’t the kind of music festival that draws in huge crowds and carries on for a fortnight. There is only one stage where the performances will take place and a large clearing around it that is peppered by stalls selling everything from food to glow in the dark bracelets. Sunset covered the entire spectacle in gold, and we could see a few people setting up tents and campfires in the distance. The energy in the air reminds me of the circus that came around every autumn that we visited when we were young.

We make our way to the podium, where Buzzkill seems to be doing a soundcheck. Vivi is bent over her drum kit and doesn’t see us until her bandmates call out to Taryn and me. She straightens up and waves at us with a huge grin on her face, drumsticks flailing dangerously close to the bassist’s ear, who dodges around her good-naturedly. People are still driving up to the clearing, but the area around the stage is already packed with bodies. One of the people I vaguely remember as Vivi’s friend pushes a beer into my hand. She’s friendly-looking and slightly plump in a way that makes her features fuller and more luscious.

“Heather,” She introduces herself. “Which one are you?”

“Jude,” I have to yell over the noise of the crowd. “Good to meet you, is this the first time you’ve seen Vivi play?”

“Not the first time, no.” She smiles and looks like she wants to say more, but the band makes their introduction and starts playing. The rest of her words are lost in the noise and the press of bodies jumping in time to the music.

I lose track of time as the night carries on. Taryn is next to me, her cheeks flushed with alcohol and her face covered in glittery makeup. We are identical, but on most days we dress and carry ourselves differently, so it isn’t very difficult to tell us apart if you pay attention. We are peas in a pod tonight, though. Nobody could mistake us for anything but twins.

“I need a breather! I’m going to go find a loo.” I pull my sister close and shout in her ear. She nods to show me she’s heard, and I push my way through the press of bodies and away from the frenzy near the stage.

The breath of fresh air I gasp in as soon as I hit the edge of the clearing makes me slightly dizzy - I didn’t mean to drink as much as I did. There aren’t as many people around as I reach the treeline, and the music in the distance takes on a muffled quality. I have no idea where the facilities may be, but in my drunken stupor, I stumble further into the woods so I can relieve myself in private.

A twinge of unease begins to creep up on me as an oppressive weight seems to fall over me the further I wander. It’s the same feeling that urges you to run back to your bed the moment you turn the lights off. It’s a primal instinct that understands something my brain and my other senses are too sluggish to see. A twig snaps beneath my feet, and I notice for the first time that the leaves strewn across the forest floor are a vibrant gold that I’ve never seen in nature before.

The trees are heavy with fruit that give off a sweet, cloying fragrance that forces its way into my lungs with every panicked breath. Sometime during my walk, the sound of Vivi’s drumming has been replaced with the pounding of my own heart. I hear voices up ahead, and I’m grateful to see a familiar face between the trees. I stumble along until I am within speaking distance, but the two men in front of me are so focused on each other that neither of them pays me any mind.

“Tell Balekin that if he wants the prince, he’ll have to come and get him himself. He is under Dain’s protection.”

There is a menace in Casper’s voice that I’ve never heard before and it draws me up short. He’s dressed oddly, in what looks like scraps of rugged dark leather, like you would expect a video game character to wear. The man he’s speaking to is dressed similarly, but his skin is a sickly looking green-grey and his ears end in sharp points. I didn’t expect someone like Casper to be into something like role-playing, but I guess you can never tell these days.

“Dain’s protection? Just you, then. The infamous Ghost.” The sneer in his voice is unmistakable, and the grate of the long dagger he draws from his scabbard sounds sharp. This seemed to be a high-quality production. I’m hesitant to interrupt, in case I disturb any cameras that might be recording that isn’t immediately visible to me.

“Just me,” Casper says, his grin feral as he draws his own falchion, and stabs it into the other man’s neck in the space it takes me to blink. “Believe me, it’s enough.”

There is a metallic tang of blood in the air, and the man on the ground lets out a strangled gurgle as his body spasms in it’s death throes. I don’t see any cameras, or anyone else. I feel a scream bubbling up in my chest as the man finally lays still, his empty eyes glassy and open to the night sky.

I scramble backward and fall on my ass, and the noise has Casper’s hazel eyes snap on to mine instantly. “Taryn,” He says, his voice soft. “You feel no fear. You got lost. Go back to the festival. You didn’t see me tonight. You saw nothing here tonight.”

He takes a step forward towards me, and I see that there are blood splatters on his jerkin and his neck. A strangled yell finally escapes me, and I turn around without a word and flee through the woods like my life depends on it. For all I know, it probably does.

“Taryn! Damnit!” He calls out after me. I hear him give chase. I can’t tell what is louder - the sound of my heart pounding in my chest, or my clumsy, heavy footfalls. He’s going to catch up to me. I was lost, to begin with, and now I’ve been completely turned around. I have no idea if I’m running back towards the festival and safety or further out into the wilderness, where my body will be easily disposed of. A choked sob escapes me at the thought of Taryn and my family never finding out what happened to me.

I stumble and fall and feel my ankle twist beneath my weight. Sharp stones dig into my palms and I can feel the sting of them, but I push myself up and carry on. Casper isn’t calling out to me anymore, but I can hear him gaining on me. I don’t know how long I run, dragging myself on my injured leg, but I keep going for what feels like forever.

The darkness around me is absolute now, but the cloying smell of the golden fruit disperses and the fresh, sharp smell of pine fills my nostrils. Finally, I see a break in the tree line and burst through to see a shabby set of train tracks lined by a series of run-down and abandoned warehouses. Somehow I’ve ended up on the outskirts of town, but hope rears up in my chest. Maybe I can find someone and get help.

“Taryn!” I hear Casper roar behind me again. He’s so close now. I hurry to the nearest structure I can find with light showing through the windows and bang on the door, but there is no response. A scream of frustration escapes me and I’m about to give up and try my luck with another one before a deadbolt unlocks and the door swings open, blinding me with the sudden glare of florescent electric light.

“I know I haven’t been responding to the emails,” Carden Thorne says to me, grimacing. “But this seems kind of excessive for a Chemistry project.”


	3. Chapter 3

I push past Cardan and shoulder the door closed behind me, and then secure the deadbolt before whirling back towards him. 

He raises his eyebrows at me. "Make yourself at home," He says. "Mi casa es su casa" 

"I need to use a phone. I dropped mine somewhere, I have to call 911. I've witnessed a murder." 

"What would I need a phone for?" 

I want to punch his infuriatingly arrogant, perfect face. I want to shake him for sounding like having girls running for their lives showing up on his doorstep is a regular occurrence and warrants little more than a bored, quizzical expression. 

"Are you deaf? I just watched one of our classmates stab a man in the neck with a goddamned sword. He chased me through the forest. I need to report a murder." I know that I sound absolutely hysterical, but I don't think I'm overreacting, considering the situation. He's the one that seems to be too dense to grasp the gravity of the situation. 

"Yeah? Which classmate?" He steps around me and peeks through the keyhole.

"Casper Garette. I thought it was some kind of weird game at first, but the blood-" 

I choked off mid-sentence because before I can stop him, he unlatches the door and stands aside to allow Casper in. He's still holding the sword. There's dark blood on the edge, still wet and gleaming. It marks the pristine shine of the naked blade. 

He's breathing heavily. The door swings shut behind him. Casper tosses his coat on a stand beside the door with a familiarity that implies this isn't his first visit. I try to keep my eyes on him as I back up slowly until I hit a wall. 

"God, she can run. For all the good that's going to do." He tosses the sword into the umbrella rack next to the door and then pulls out a chair and casually sits down at the opulent looking dining table. He pulls a pewter jug towards him and takes a deep swing of whatever is in it. 

Even though there are twelve chairs, Cardan settles himself on the table and pours a dark liquid into a glass for himself and delicately takes a swallow, swishing it around. "It is really even a surprise to you at this point? Anyway, what news of court?" 

"Dain has declared that he will be your guardian." Casper pauses and takes another swig of his drink. "So has Balekin."

"I inspire such love." Cardan drawls. 

"The smith is almost finished, it's going to be an all-out civil war soon. Everyone is picking sides. It's time you did, too." 

"What does it matter which side I pick? A pawn is worthless if it isn't on the board." 

"You know the prophecy better than I do, I'm sure. Destroyer of everything and plague upon the lands and whatnot."

"That's a rather rude way to address your prince." 

These people are crazy. 

My eyes search for an escape while they seem to be distracted by their conversation, and my mouth drops open. The warehouse looked rusted and run down from the outside, in truth it appeared to be little more than a glorified storage box, but the inside appears to be the kind of opulent mansion you only see in period dramas. The walls are made of tastefully exposed brick and concrete, and the furnishings are plush and expensive looking. There's even a fireplace with a gently cracking flame in it, and a wide staircase with a dark wood banister leading upstairs. 

"What the hell is this place?" I blurt out, forgetting that I'm trying to avoid their direct notice. 

"I live in the TARDIS," Cardan tells me, a matter of factly. 

"The what?" Casper furrows his brows. 

"Don't worry about it. When does she ever believe that I'm a prince?" 

I've reached the end of my tether. If they aren't going to hurt me, then I'm not going to stick around until they change their mind and realize that I'm a murder witness that can implicate them. I have to leave and find help. I rush towards the door - the only exit that I can see, there doesn't seem to be any windows and try to throw open the deadbolt. It's wedged shut. 

"We're not going to hurt you," Cardan says quietly, his voice only a few inches behind me. How did he move so quickly? I didn't even hear him get up. 

"We're on your side." He says and gently brushes his fingers over my collarbone. 

I can feel tears welling up in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I refuse to go quietly and without a fight, I refuse to let these people hurt me without hurting them back. 

"There's only so much she can take, you know," Casper says cheerfully, pointing at me with his jug. "Their minds break eventually." 

"Not this one." Cardan whispers, only for me. I feel sick to my stomach. His fingers brush across my neck again, and I ready my body to fight and kick and scratch. He pulls at the strand of rowan berries at my neck until it snaps. 

"You don't remember this happened." 

* * *

  
I wake with a start, exactly ten seconds before my alarm is about to go off. I grab for my phone and quickly turn it off before it can wake my twin sister, Taryn, who is still sound asleep on the other side of the room. 

My breath comes out in short gasps, and I put drop my head down into my hands, struggling to hold on to the details of an already fleeting dream. I remember a forest with gold leaves and blood. So much blood. I can feel a headache pounding behind my eyes, one that I know will remain with me for the rest of the morning.

Sunlight streams in through the drawn curtains and incites a groggy yawn and a mumbled greeting from my sister as she stretches and sits up in bed. Her eyes take in my disheveled appearance and she smiles sympathetically. 

“Bad dreams again?” 

“Nothing a mug of coffee and dad’s pancakes won’t fix.” I try for a smile but I know it comes across as more of a grimace. My fingers automatically reach for my neck but find nothing to fidget with and drop to my sides. 

“It’s just you and me for a while, I’m afraid. Dad is away for that conference for a few weeks, remember? I can make some toast if you’re hungry”

I stretch and toss the sheets aside. I shiver a little as my bare feet hit the cold floor. I’m sore all over today. 

“That’s alright. Let’s wake Vivi and get waffles at the diner if you feel up to it.”

Taryn looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. 

“Who’s Vivi?” She says.


	4. Chapter 4

One of my favorite memories from my childhood is of the Saturdays mom used to take us to the little park by our old place, back when we still lived in the city. Taryn always rushed on ahead to the crowded stalls that sold the gummy candy she loved, but I jumped up on the concrete railing and carefully set one foot in front of the other, my tongue sticking out and my arms held apart for balance. I felt that way again for a moment, in a rush of vertigo and nostalgia. I feel something inside me tip off balance for a split second before reality floods back.

I shake my head and grin at my sister sheepishly. 

“Tail end of a weird dream, nevermind.” 

Taryn looks like she wants to say more to me, but she holds her silence. Instead, she stumbles out of bed and pads up to me and tries to feel my forehead. I dodge out of the way and poke her until she’s giggling and trying to fend me off. 

“Stop! Truce!” She gasps out, “Stop feeling me up!”

“Saving yourself for the mystery guy?” I tease her, still getting a few half-hearted jabs in, “When do I get to meet him, anyway? You’re a sorry excuse for a twin, you never tell me anything.”

She pushes me away and flops down to sit on my bed. “That’s rich coming from you,” She says. “Miss too-good-for-anyone. Everyone else at school thinks you’re a mysterious intellectual with a tortured soul. I know better.” She throws one of the stuffed animals on my bed at my face, but I snatch it out of the air. 

“Yeah? And what do you know?” I laugh and throw it back at her. It hits her on the forehead and lets out a pathetic squeak before bouncing down on to the floor. 

“You’re as shy as a nun in a convent. Which is why you’re going to come on a double date with me and my mystery man, as you put it. Today.”

“But I don’t have any time to do my nails!” I protest. Taryn rolls her eyes at me. We both know that the only times my nails have been painted, it’s been because she wanted a mannequin to play dress-up. 

“Don’t be difficult, we’ll have a great time. He’s going to bring a friend of his from his hometown. We can show him around, grab some dinner. It’ll be fun.” She looks at me pointedly.

“Hey, I know how to have fun,” I say defensively, “There’s plenty of fun to be had here. We have a forge in our backyard. How many kids can say the same?”  
“The fact that our living room looks like a set piece out of Game of Thrones is pretty cool,” She concedes. “But it wouldn’t hurt to come and socialize with me every once in a while. I really want you to meet him.”

I bite my lip at the earnestness on her face, feeling a little bit ashamed of myself. Taryn really does her best to involve me in her life, as much of an overwhelming whirlwind as it can be to me. I can see that this is important to her. 

“If you promise to make me pretty, and buy me dessert.” 

She lets out a squeal and hugs me, and I can’t help but laugh at the childish joy on her face. 

We were inseparable as children - we did the whole twin thing where we got dressed in the same outfits and pretended to be each other, but we grew out of that and into our own people as most people do. Still, it felt good to spend an afternoon hanging out and getting ready for a fun evening. Taryn’s bubbliness can be infectious, and I soon found myself just as excited as she is.

I step over a skirt lying on the floor and throw open the wardrobe in her room. It’s stuffed with band T-shirts and converse in every shade of the rainbow.

“Do you have anything that isn’t from Hot Topic in here?” I call to her. 

“Hey, everyone has a scene phase. It’s not my fault you’re a weirdo.” She answers cheerfully from the bathroom that connects our rooms, “Why don’t you wear the red dress you got on sale last week?”

I try to shut the wardrobe, but bits of clothing stubbornly spill everywhere in a landslide. I push my weight against the doors and finally, hear it click shut. Nothing to see here. 

An hour later, after some arguing and a minor mishap with a curling iron, we’re looking for a parking spot outside the mall. It’s unusually crowded since it’s the weekend, so we have to drive around and park towards the perimeter, furthest away from the road and the traffic. I step out and self consciously try to pull the tiny dress lower down my thighs, but Taryn takes my hand and pulls me along, her cheeks flush and a gleam in her eye that’s visible even in the dim lighting. 

I glance around at the silent parking lot, suddenly irrationally nervous. The entrance to the mall is visible from where we’re standing, full of light and sound, but the dim lamp above us flickers with an electric buzz. Taryn has her phone out, and the blue light reflected on her face throws creepy shadows across her familiar features. I shiver, even though the night isn’t particularly cold. I look around again, unable to shake the feeling that I’m being watched. 

“I think they’re going to meet us at the food court-” She cuts off a sentence with a swear as a loud snap pierces the night, and she stumbles. “Damnit, my heel broke!”

I try to pull her along. “We’ll buy you a new pair, we are right next to the mall.”

She puts her weight against me and pulls me back towards the car, and I follow reluctantly. “I should have a spare pair of flats in my car,” Taryn says. “Casper and his friend can just wait.”

“Casper?” I say dumbly. 

“Casper Garette. He’s in our year, but I don’t think he’s in any of our classes.” She responds while rummaging around through the mess in her car. 

“I have a class with him.” 

She glances back at me over her shoulder and then waves at someone behind me. “Oh, there they are. Cat’s out of the bag now, I guess. What do you think of him? Do you like him?”

“Yes.” I turn around to see him walking towards us in long, hurried strides. His pale hair and skin are stark against the dark clothes he wears. There’s a worried crease between his eyebrows. The light above us flickers again, and for a moment I feel a sense of vertigo again like I’m on the edge of a precipice about to fall. I know the boy with the dark hair beside him. I would recognize those pale, arrogant features and that cool gaze that is focused on me anywhere. Then why can’t I remember his name?

“We have to go. They’re here.” His voice is low as he grips Taryn’s shoulder as if he’s afraid to let go. 

“Who’s here? Is there some kind of trouble?” 

I can’t tear my eyes away from the stranger. His eyes widen as if realizing that something has shifted in me. 

“Taryn, listen. I swear I’ll explain everything, but for now, you have to trust me.”

She tries to pull her arm away from him, but he doesn’t let go. 

“I’m sorry,” He tells her, and then pulls out what looks to be a couple of reeds, and blows on them. Before I can blink, two skeletal looking creatures are standing before us and he’s already clambering up on one of them. He holds her hand out to her and whispers something to her that I can’t hear, but she lets him pull her up on to the creature behind him. It snorts and takes off in a powerful beat of its bat-like wings.

I bite back a scream and stumble back, but the dark-haired boy is there to keep me from keeling over. He nudges me towards the second creature that’s still standing there expectantly, staring at us with its large luminous orb-like eyes. 

“Relax, you’ll be home safe soon. You won’t remember any of this.” His whisper in my ear is a caress, and I jerk back.

“Like hell I won’t!” I try to pull away from him, but he has a grip on my waist and is struggling to haul me bodily on the creature.

“You would pick this moment to be difficult. Jude, we’re in danger, if you would just-”

I frantically take a swing at his face. My hand connects with his jaw, but it was a sloppy punch. It feels like I’ve punched a brick wall. He spits blood on to the ground, and I can see that his lip is split open but he doesn’t let go. He barks out a laugh. 

“You crazy, beautiful lunatic. Will you let me rescue you for once?” 

“The only thing I need rescuing from is you and these demonic ponies. Where’s my sister?”

I struggle for all I’m worth, but it doesn’t matter how much fight I have in me when he’s near twice my size and determined to get me on to the damn thing. A picture of riding one of these creatures suddenly flashes into my mind, over a dark inky lake under the light of a gleaming moon, the weight of strong arms around my waist holding me securely. 

The light flickers again - once, twice, and then turns off, plunging us into darkness. There is a sickly sweet smell of rot in the air. I hear a sound somewhere behind me, and sense the tension of an indrawn breath. Before I can think about what I’m doing, I push into the boy in front of me with all my might.

He’s taken by surprise and we both tip over, him backwards with me on top of him. Maybe that’s why I’m not instantly dead, even though it feels like I should be. I feel nothing but a spreading numbness between my shoulder blades at first, but the pain soon follows. A blinding, staggering pain that courses through my veins from the throbbing source in my shoulder. 

He swears, and I think of how elegant the word sounds on his lips. It’s difficult for me to hold on to reality, because there are flashes of light and smells and sounds that make no sense, and suddenly I’m flying. I feel weightless, grounded only by the arms around me. 

I don’t know how long it is until I feel the creature land back on hard earth with a thud that sends a stab of pain down my entire side. I’m lowered down to the ground by gentle hands, but I still moan. My voice is pitiful and weak, even to my own ears.

“Stay with me.” He cups my cheek in a warm hand, tilting my head towards him. “This is going to hurt, but I know you can do this. You’re the strongest person I know.” His voice cracks, but he gently turns me over so my face is against the warm, sweet cover of golden leaves on the forest floor. I feel a twinge of pain as he grips the arrow shaft protruding from between my shoulder blades, and ruthlessly yanks it out.

Nothing could prepare me for the blinding agony that follows. I hear a woman screaming, and it takes me a moment to realize that it’s me. He’s pressing down on the wound as if struggling to hold me together. But he can’t, I realize wildly. I’m broken. It’s too late. I can feel the fire coursing through my veins, destroying everything on its way to my heart.

“Fight it!” There’s a desperate frenzy in his voice. “You have to heal yourself, I can’t do it alone. I don’t know what this is, all I can do is slow it down.”

“Cardan…” I murmur, and it feels like the first taste of the sweetest fruit in my mouth, but he doesn’t hear me.

There’s a pool of blood spreading around me, more blood than I thought my body could hold. It seeps into the soil. Fresh, young shoots spring up between the golden autumn leaves from the blood sodden soil, and they grow into curling vines that wrap around me before my eyes, cradling me like a mother cradles her sick child. Darkness creeps into the edges of my vision as white blossoms unfurl along the vines, their cores a rich, ruby red. 


	5. Chapter 5

When I wake up, I know that I am in hell. The creature peering down at me has green skin covered in a patchwork of scars that brings a gnarled old oak to mind. Its nose is long and twists around like a scythe, its nostrils flared. I realize the thing is leaning forward, trying to sniff me. I shudder with revulsion, but I’m too weak to do more than let out a small choking gasp. 

“Oh move over, Roach. Give the poor thing some air.” 

The creature - Roach - pulls away and I’m left with a clearer view of the room that I’m in. The room itself looks like something I’d picture in an old-fashioned tavern. The floorboards are made of old, discolored wood and the shelves lining the walls are filled with a bewildering variety of odds and ends - weapons, candles, clothing, and stoppered vials of liquid in every color imaginable. The roughly painted plaster only goes halfway up the wall, and the ceiling looks like it’s entirely made of uncut rock. The whole place gives the impression of a well-appointed human-sized warren. I anchor myself on my elbows and struggle to sit up straight on the cot I’m laying on. 

The first thing I see is Taryn rushing over to hug me. “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” she mumbles into my ear. My back protests the tiniest movements but I hug her back, and she helps me prop myself up into a sitting position. I’m grateful for her solid presence as she squeezes my hand and huddles next to me. 

“How are you feeling? Can you still move all your limbs?” The voice from earlier inquires, and I see that it comes from a fine-boned girl with skin dappled like a doe and a shock of pure white hair that surrounds her head in a halo. The most delicate pair of translucent wings are visible between her shoulder blades. She’s bent over a mortar and pestle, but her eyes are glued to me. 

“I’m in one piece,” I say, still a little shell-shocked. “Who are you?”

I really want to say _“What are you?”_ but as weak as I am, I don’t think I’m in a position to risk anybody’s ire. 

“They call me the Bomb. This here is Roach,” She points at the green creature, who is eating a block of cheese that he’s speared on one of his claws. He waves at me. 

“I know you two probably have a lot of questions, but we’re not allowed to say anything until you’ve been questioned,” She continues.

“Questioned by whom?” I ask. 

She grabs a vial of something with a watery lavender liquid in it, and pours it into the pestle and mortar and gives it a quick mix before bringing it over to me and holding it out. 

“By the person we work for. The future king of Faerie, Prince Dain.” She says.

I accept the concoction and stare into it. It looks like a mix of smashed up berries and leaves. 

“Look, I think there’s been some kind of mistake.” Taryn is glancing down at the mixture, too, her expression dubious. “My sister and I aren’t, er - faerie, we were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. Please just give me my phone back, I need to call 911. My sister needs to get to a hospital-”

“A mortal healer won’t be able to help. The wound won’t heal until she drinks the antidote. Blood Clove is a harmless enough toxin for faeries, it only incapacitates us for a few hours. But it’s lethal to a mortal without an antidote.”

She gestures towards it, urging me to drink. I sigh and lift it to my lips and take a cautious sip. It tastes of an herb that is vaguely reminiscent of thyme, spiked with the sourness of the crushed berries. It isn’t unpleasant and I hope it isn’t poisonous, so I finish the concoction. Satisfied, the Bomb goes to sit by the fire next to Roach. 

I lean closer to Taryn and whisper. “Where did Casper and Cardan go? Where are those demonic ponies?”

“What ponies?” She frowns at me, “The last thing I remember is watching them tend to your wound, and Casper - Ghost, they call him - telling me that we have to wait here. I think he’s involved in something bad, Jude. What if they want to harvest our organs? Why do I have such terrible taste in men?”

Roach snorts, and a smile tugs at the edges of the bomb’s delicate mouth. With a jolt, I realize that they can hear every word of our conversation even though we’re whispering and they’re across the room. 

“Somebody in the parking lot shot me. Why?” 

Roach and the Bomb exchange a look, but it’s the Roach that responds.

“We’re not sure, but it’s likely that you weren’t the intended target if they used Blood Clove. As for whom, it could be anyone. Everyone wants a piece of the prince in exile now that the big players are on the move.” He pauses to spear something else on his claw and pops it into his mouth. “But it was probably Balekin.”

“Nobody I’ve ever heard of before, then,” I reply glumly. 

“That’s remedied easily enough.” The man striding into the room wears a pleasant smile and a kingly bearing, which is impressive considering he seems to have the hind legs of a deer. He’s dressed much more richly than anyone else I’ve ever met - his doublet is all velvet and filigree gold to match the perfectly groomed blonde curls on his head. 

He smiles at me, and it’s warm and friendly. “Welcome to my Court of Shadows, Jude and Taryn Duarte. I am Prince Dain.” 

The Bomb and Roach jump up and bow to him respectfully, but he waves it off and motions them to sit back down. Casper - Ghost - follows Dain into the room and takes a seat next to Roach, and Cardan slinks in behind, expressionless. He refuses to meet my eye and seems to be the only one in the room as uncomfortable as I feel. 

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” says Taryn, always the diplomat. “I was just saying to the Bomb that there must be some kind of mistake. There’s no reason my sister and I should be involved in any of this.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” The smile doesn’t drop from Dain’s lips. “Regardless, you are here now, and it seems that Jude is hurt. You will be returned to your home in good time, I’m sure.” 

He turns to Ghost. “What did you discover?”

Ghost rubs a hand over the sandy stubble that covers his chin wearily, but his voice is respectful and alert when he answers. “Ran into one of Balekin’s in the copse the other day. I took care of it, but there were obviously more..”

_A flash of a golden forest, and a sword in a man’s throat as he lets out a strangled gurgle. Glassy eyes staring into the sky, empty of life._

“There’s always somebody watching, but they’ve never been this bold before. They’ve never made a move.”

Dain glances at Cardan with a thoughtful expression on his face. 

“Balekin will make his move soon, and we must be prepared to respond in kind. A kingdom without a crowned King is vulnerable and weak. Are you prepared to atone for mistakes yet?”

The smile spreading across Cardan’s mouth is humorless, and his fists are clenched. “Some things cannot be atoned for.”

“Indeed,” says Dain mildly. He turns to face Taryn and me.

“Tell me, Taryn Duarte. Are you mortal?” 

“I’m not...faerie,” My sister stumbles on the unfamiliar word. “I’m mortal.”

“And are you a liar, Jude Duarte?” He turns to me. So much for niceties. 

“Everyone lies sometimes,” I tell him, and he smiles indulgently in response.

“Faeries cannot lie. Which puts us at such a disadvantage, does it not?” His voice is all honey and smooth brandy, and I am suddenly a deer in the headlights, unable to escape his gaze. When he speaks next, I feel a compulsion to answer him, and I don’t think I could stop myself even if I wanted to. The sudden rush of helplessness terrifies me. “Speak only the truth to me. Would you lie to save yourself and your sister, Jude Duarte?”

“Yes,” I whisper. 

“Have you ever encountered any of the fae before this?” 

“No.”

He leans forward eagerly. “Are you the only children of Eva and Justin Duarte?” 

My mind reels with half-remembered and hazy images as if seen in a dream. _A man with sharp teeth holding the hand of a tall woman with the same cat-like luminous eyes._

“Yes.” My voice is a hoarse whisper. 

He sighs, and just like that Dain seems to lose interest in us. The grip that he holds us in loosens, and I feel Taryn ease up beside me. I take in a deep, fortifying breath even though it sends a stab of pain down my shoulder.

“What do you want, little brother?” He’s saying to Cardan, “We both know how unfairly you’ve been banished. Help me, and I will have the power to end your exile.” 

“What for?” Cardan replies, his voice a lazy drawl. “I find that I’ve developed quite a taste for the mortal world.” 

The smile doesn’t slip from Dain’s smooth features but there is a distinct strain in his jaw as if he’s grinding his teeth together. “Surely it would be pleasing to have access to your home, you can visit the mortal world whenever you wish. You could have your own lands.” 

Cardan leans back in his seat and settles into a relaxed sprawl. An arrogant, wolfish grin spreads across his handsome features. “Now we’re talking. We might have a deal if you throw in the mortal twins. Madoc will have no interest in them if they have no power.” 

Dain laughs. “You really have developed a taste for the mortal world. Alright, consider it a homecoming gift.” 


	6. Chapter 6

  
In the days following Dain’s visit, I discovered that the rooms occupied by the Court of Shadows extend out into a series of tunnels that burrow beneath the seat of Court and quite a few key locations in the surrounding grounds. I know there is an entrance to the wine cellar of Dain’s personal residence, and that it is a route that Roach and Ghost take often to make regular reports of the whispers and rumors heard around the castle. 

Taryn has always had a much easier time fitting in and making friends wherever she goes, so it’s no surprise at all that she settles into this new world turned upside down much better than I have. She often leaves with Ghost for long stretches of time and returns with the most fantastical tales of a fairytale world. Her absences leave me with a knot in my stomach that doesn’t ease until I see her again, but I’m thankful that we aren’t being held as prisoners. At least, not overtly so. 

Whenever either of us brings up leaving to go back to the mortal world, people always seem to avert their gaze or make excuses about my injury. I gather that Dain wants us here for the time being. Either way, it doesn’t look like we have many choices at the moment. Even with the Bomb’s homebrew antidotes and concoctions, my injury is slow to heal and it has left me confined to the headquarters. The poison has left my body pitifully weak, and nothing convinces me more of the danger of this world than the way every muscle in my body protests the slightest movement and the constant dull throbbing that never leaves my shoulder even with the strongest sedatives. 

As time passes, the vain hope I hold in my heart that somebody will jump out with a camera and tell me that this is all some kind of elaborate set up fades. The translucent wings on the Bomb’s back flutter elegantly as she moves in a way that is too alive to be prosthetic. The deep-set wrinkles and scars on the Roach’s face move in time with the expressions on his face when he’s animatedly playing cards, and Ghost’s ears end in pointed tips. Even Cardan seems to have a long tail that swishes when he’s aggravated or restless and ends in a tuft of soft, dark hair. 

It swishes around now as if it has a life of its own. I’m so mesmerized by the movements that I don’t recognize the reason behind his aggravation until I tune in to the conversation that he and Roach are having on the couch by the fire. 

“We’ve been over this so many times, what more is there to say about the sorry affair?” Roach is saying. His words are impatient, but his voice is measured, if slightly slurred. 

“I need to know how they died. Caelia, Elowyn...where were they laid to rest.” Cardan is staring into the fire, his face expressionless, but his tail tells a different story. 

“What does it matter? They’re in an eternal rest now. Rhyia only escaped the slaughter because she was called on a last-minute diplomatic mission to the undersea. I don’t think Madoc knew. Either way, she’s as unreachable as everyone else. There’s been no word from Queen Orlagh. Nicasia left months ago, so it seems that the sea is waiting for the land to be weakened before crashing onto the shores.”

Roach took a swig from his mug and continued quietly. “It was quick, it was clean. None of them surrendered. None of them suffered. Balekin should have, but that eel managed to slip through Madoc’s men. So here we are.”

Cardan nodded. “Here we are.”

The silence that followed remained unbroken for a few minutes. Roach finished his drink, mumbled something about needing a bath and stood up. He stumbled for a moment before leaving, slamming the door a little too hard. 

I shuffle awkwardly to the couch and land heavily on top of it, jostling him slightly, but he doesn’t react. He doesn’t move. 

“I’m sorry about your family,” I say quietly.

Our shoulders are touching, so I feel him stiffen beside me. 

“I only have the faintest memories of my childhood,” He admits after a moment, “The foster families that kept me off the streets are stronger in my mind than they are. And yet, they were my blood. That’s all we’ll ever share now.” Cardan reaches out for the bottle that the Roach was drinking from and takes a sip, not bothering to find himself a glass.

“I’m sorry about that, too. My mother died when I was fourteen, but at least I have memories of her. They’re treasures I’m terrified I’ll lose. Some days, I can’t remember the sound of her voice, or what she smells like. Still, a family isn’t just who you share blood with.” 

He looks at me, and there is an intensity in his eyes that makes my breath hitch and roots me to the spot. We are as good as strangers, but somehow I know the lonely boy he’d been, unable to find his way home all these years. A brutal home where kin murders kin, but home nonetheless. He reaches out to touch my hair in a gesture that seems almost unconscious, but my nerves are on fire where his skin touches mine. There is a yearning in his gaze that I cannot understand, nor can I fathom the tears that are welling up in my eyes in response. My heart constricts, but I don’t understand what I’m grieving. 

I drop my eyes and try to adjust myself into a more comfortable position on the couch, and awkwardly try to wipe the tears that are clouding my vision. 

“Jude…” He whispers, and it’s a plea for something that I want to give him, but I don’t know what it is. The dizzying and absolutely inexplicable intensity of my own emotions terrify me more than anything I’ve experienced in Faerie so far. 

“At least you’re back home, now. And you have a second chance at mending ties with your family.” My voice is overly cheerful and rings hollow even in my own ears. 

_A home you were exiled from as a child, and a family swimming in blood._

“After the coronation tomorrow, you’ll have your own lands, your own piece of Faerie. And Taryn and I can finally go back home.”

Cardan nods, and it’s as if he’s withdrawing into himself. I lay there, studying the firelight dance on the planes of his face, wishing I could ease a burden that I couldn’t begin to understand. I reach for his hand, intertwining my fingers through his. He doesn’t respond, but something of the tension in the set of his brows eases a little bit. I fall asleep with my hand in his, desperately trying to hold something together that I cannot grasp, but somehow understand is infinitely precious to me. 

On the day of the coronation, Taryn and I are dressed in the nondescript dark garb and faceless mask that the rest of the Court of Shadows are in so as not to appear too conspicuous. The hall is opulent in the extreme, as beautiful and inhuman as the congregation that populates it. There are touches of human craftsmanship around the wall, in tapestries and alcoves decorated with sculptures. But there are also vines climbing up the walls, with flowers blooming in the most vivid poisonous looking colours. Crystals hang from the ceiling like wax dripping from a candle, illuminating the large hall with a radiance that looks like starlight.

Taryn and I are situated close to the dais where the coronation is to take place. Cardan’s back is in front of me, squared and facing the crowd with a haughty coolness that is only slightly spoiled by the twitching of his tail. Dain is resplendent today, dressed as a king should, in a majestic cloak of velvet and fur that pools around the throne he’s seated at. 

My eyes sweep across the crowd, to the guards lining the corners of the room, the bewitched starlight glinting off their sharp weapons. My eyes fall to the man flanking Dain. He’s tall with green skin and cat-like yellow eyes, dressed simply in the battle-worn armor of a veteran. His teeth end in sharp points and look almost too long for his mouth.

_A man in a forest, holding out a hand with black claws._

I suppress an involuntary shudder. He radiates an air of violence. 

The large oak door to the hall swings open, and a hush falls over the crowd and they part to allow a tall stately looking creature with blue skin walks in, carrying a crown made of twisted golden vines on a cushion. He nears the podium, and there is a buzz of energy in the air, like the metallic taste in your mouth before a storm. 

His voice is a low baritone that nonetheless carries across the room as he speaks. “We are here to witness the crowning of Prince Dain Greenbriar. The power of the land and the crown passes from Greenbriar to Greenbriar, blood to blood.”

Dain kneels in front of the throne, his face solemn. 

“Do you vow to fulfill your duties to your land and your people, to strive to be worthy of the power bestowed upon you by the crown of your family and the devotion of your people?”

“I do.” Dain’s voice is clear, and an excited murmur goes through the crowd. 

Cardan steps up and rests the crown on Dain’s brow. I feel a moment of weakness. It feels like shortness of breath, a loss of balance as I readjust myself to the world as if I’ve suddenly lost a connection I didn’t know that I had. I am masked, but I see my reaction mirrored in Cardan as he stumbles momentarily, but quickly rights himself and steps back towards me. He’s breathing hard, and he grips my arm. We steady ourselves against each other. 

“There are other vows to be fulfilled tonight, brother.” The speaker strolls into the hall, following the steps that the crown was carried in just moments ago. The thorns growing up his arms add to his menace as he flaunts his security and power, strolling into a throne room that is heavily guarded with armed men that have their weapons raised and pointed at him. 

“Balekin,” Dain spits out the word. “Forgive me for forgetting your invitation, but it seems that you have missed the fun.”

Balekin dips into a low mocking bow, one that he holds for only a moment and dips out of with a flourish. “Nevertheless, I couldn’t miss such a momentous occasion.”

“What do you want?” 

A slow, cat-like smile spreads across Balekin’s face. “I’m here to claim what’s mine by right.”

Dain stiffens. He shoots a glance at Madoc, who is already barking commands at the guards around the room. Balekin is soon surrounded, but the smile doesn’t drop off his face as he raises his arms in surrender.

“Come now, there’s no need for that. Greenbriar blood isn’t as plentiful as it once was, there’s no need to spill more.” 

Balekin lifts his arm in a flourish and holds it high, so the gold markings etched into his skin are clearly visible to all present. “I am here to collect on a concord.” 

A buzz fills the room. People are openly pointing at the glowing runes on his arm, whispering behind their hands. I take it to mean that this is a big deal, a contract of some kind that is doubly binding with much higher stakes in a world populated with creatures who cannot lie and vows are serious, deadly things. He looks straight at me and Taryn, even though we are masked and shrouded in the shadows, and my blood runs cold. 

“A concord with whom?” Dain’s eyes are narrow slits. 

“With the blacksmith Justin Duarte. He broke our agreement, so I find that I need to lay a claim on some insurance. I am here to claim his blood. I am here for his mortal offspring.”


	7. Chapter 7

After my mother passed away, there was a wound in our family that never quite healed completely. We dealt with it in different ways. I withdrew into myself, finding comfort in the quiet moments of escapism that books brought me. Taryn was the opposite, she surrounded herself with people. Perhaps it took the edge off the loss we both felt so keenly.

My father threw himself into his work. He had our shed transformed into a fully operational forge and workshop and spent days at a time in there. He was always talented, but once he started building replicas that were bought by museums and used in movies, he became a celebrity. He started traveling the world to attend conventions and conferences. My sister and I got used to his long absences and learned to fend for ourselves. We never thought to question it. 

“With the blacksmith Justin Duarte. He broke our agreement, so I find that I need to lay a claim on some insurance. I am here to claim his blood.”

My mind reels from shock. Taryn clings to me as if she’s using me to steady herself. _A concord with Justin Duarte._ My dad has made a contract with the faeries - with Balekin, no less. A contract that he’s broken. I try to remember the last time I saw him, and I’m not sure. Was it a week? Two weeks? The thought of him being Balekin’s prisoner for so long makes me break out into a cold sweat. 

“They are under my protection, I’m afraid. They have been living under my household since they...arrived.” Now that he knows that Bain isn’t trying to make a play for his crown, Dain is all relaxed charm. He’s sprawled leisurely in this throne, already playing the part of the king. I know that he has no interest in Taryn and me, we are simply afterthoughts that he promised to Cardan in an attempt to secure his throne. The only reason he’s pushing right now is that he doesn’t want to give Balekin what he wants. Faerie politics and their posturing sicken me. 

“You would deny the magic of a concord?” Balekin raises his arm in the air again, and there is muttering amongst the assembled crowd. “You would take upon yourself the responsibility of vengeful magic being unleashed on your lands? Think of the innocents that would be at risk.”

Dain’s lip curls into a sneer, but the crowd is on his side now. To a race of folk that cannot lie, a contract this binding must have terrible consequences if it were broken. People are pointing and whispering to each other behind their hands, telling each other stories they’ve heard of broken concord with terror on their faces. My heart sinks, I know that Dain will not risk himself, not when he’s just seated himself on the throne after climbing over so many bodies to get there. 

“We had a deal, Dain,” Cardan says quietly. His voice is steady, but I see that his hand is balled into a fist, his knuckles white. He’s moved to stand in front of me again, shielding me from the relentless gaze of the crowd and of the fae that talk of us like we’re property to be bartered with.

“How unfortunate,” Balekin sneers without an ounce of remorse in his voice, “It seems that your first act as the monarch of our sacred lands is to break an oath to your own blood, whatever decision you make. What an inauspicious start to your reign. Perhaps the histories will remember you as Dain the Oathbreaker.”

I look around the large hall again, my eyes desperately seeking an escape route, but I see none. There are too many guards, too many people. We are dressed to meld with the shadows, but on this podium, we are in the spotlight. There is no way to slip away without drawing attention. I am trapped. 

Dain taps a finger thoughtfully on his lip. “The concord claims Justin Duarte’s blood, and it seems that we have an extra twin to go around. You may take one of the mortals, Balekin, and Cardan will have the other. We must learn to share, must we not, brothers?”

  
“You made a deal, Dain!” Cardan spits, his body quivering with rage.

“It seems that you have spent too long away from Faerie, Cardan,” Dain says smoothly, “Or you would not have forgotten to specify that you want to lay claim on both of them. And really, now? Are you in any position to demand both the end of your exile, your own lands, as well as your mortal playthings like an entitled child?”

Balekin offers another one of his insolent little bows to the king. When he speaks, it’s in a loud conspiratorial voice that is meant to carry to the back of the room. “Indeed, our little brother was always terribly behaved. It seems that his punishment taught him nothing, nor did it improve his temperament.” 

He looks at Taryn and smiles broadly, and his voice has an eerie echo to it. I recognize it now for a bewitchment. “Come, my dear. There is a carriage waiting.” 

Taryn’s vice-like grip on my arm slackens and she steps forward, but I can’t do it. I can’t watch my sister willingly walk into the arms of a monster. I grab her and shout, “I’ll go! It doesn’t matter to you which of us you take, so I will go with you. Let Taryn stay with Cardan.”

Balekin winks and beckons me toward him. “Very well, it’s always more fun when they’re willing, anyway.”   
My skin crawls at the implication, and I glance at Taryn. My sister still has a vacant expression on her face, as if she’s in a daydream. She didn’t hear me offer myself up on a platter in her place, and I’m thankful for it. She will be absolutely furious with me, but at least she’ll be safe.

I square my shoulders and step forward, but Cardan grabs my wrist and pulls me towards him and presses his lips against mine. I have a vague awareness of the crowd breaking into scandalized gasps and hoots, of Balekin’s delighted laughter, but it’s as if they’re far away and I’m in a world where only Cardan and I exist. His kiss is rough, desperate as if I’m a lifeline that’s holding him in place. He pulls me close, his body pressing up against mine, and I can feel the heat rising in me in response. He grasps my hands, intertwining his fingers through mine, and when the kiss finally breaks I can see my own desire mirrored in his eyes. He bites my lower lip once more, and grazes his lips across my jaw, and whispers in my ear.

“Trust your instincts, Jude. You can’t rely on your memories anymore, they’ve been altered. I - I’ve altered them.” 

I cup his cheek in my hand and he lets out a little groan. I rest my forehead against his. I don’t understand the game we’re playing, but I understand the need for deception in this court. Truths tangled with lies. 

“Why, Cardan?” I whisper

He closes his eyes. “Because you asked me to.”

He breaks away and strides through the ranks of stunned Court of Shadows. It isn’t until after I’m escorted out by a group of guards to the waiting carriage, with Balekin looking like a cat that’s just gorged itself on cream do I notice the ring that Cardan must have slipped on my finger.

It is a delicate band of thorns, the Greenbriar crown in miniature. But the metal it’s made of is streaked with every hue of starsilver, platinum, and steel, folded in on itself over and over until it appears to be a living thing. It’s like looking at one of those optical illusions that trick your eyes. It’s an entirely unique material, but one I am intimately familiar with. There are daggers and swords of the stuff decorating my living room walls. I would recognize my father’s craftsmanship anywhere. 


	8. Chapter 8

The ride wasn’t as long as I expected it to be. The members of the royal family that don’t live in the palace reside in stately manor houses that lie beyond the perimeter of the castle grounds. Now that there is no crowd to impress, Balekin seems to have little interest in me. He looks outside the little window of the coach, seemingly distracted. 

The carriage rolls to a stop in a wide gravel driveway. A large building overgrown with vines that are dotted with purple flowers looms over us. The red brick is faded with age, but still in good repair. The windows are tall, with ornate white trim. The one nearest to us is thrown wide open. Sounds of laughter and lazy spurts of music reach us outside. If not for the unscalable stone walls lining the property and the presence of the man beside me, this would have been a charming place, like a house out of a fairytale. 

There are fae dressed in the rich courtly fashion sitting by a fountain, as well as guards in ornate armor guarding the large double doors that are thrown wide open to reveal a lavishly decorated entrance hall. I pick out a few humans dressed in servant’s livery, their skin pale and eyes glassy with bewitchment. It seems that we’ve arrived in the middle of a party. One of them - a coachman - hurries forward to open the door for us. 

“Come,” Balekin says to me curtly and strolls inside without a backward glance. A guard checks my collar and pockets for rowan berry charms and then shoves me roughly towards the house. If not for the people surrounding us and the walls that I would have to attempt to scale, I’d have considered making a run for it. 

_Dad is here_ , I remind myself grimly, and follow Balekin inside with my shoulders squared and anxiety roiling in my gut. Will I find him like these other hapless humans that were taken in by faerie glamour? Will he even recognize me or will he think I’m just another trick in this awful place? How am I going to get us out of here? 

_Trust your instincts_. I bite my lip. I can still feel the echo of Cardan’s kiss, rough and desperate. I’ve never seen the ring he slipped on my finger before, but it is still somehow familiar to me. It’s the only connection I have with my family and my friends in this place. I feel like a rabbit that wandered into a wolf den. 

Balekin seems to be arguing with a boy with russet hair in the foyer. He appears to be around the same age as me, although it is difficult to say with the fae. He must be one of the high fae, I realize. From what I remember of the crash course that the Bomb gave me about fae society, I know that fae with noble blood tend to look more human than most. Other than his tawny eyes and pointed ears, he looks almost human. 

“Do not presume that you can tell me how to run my business. My generosity only goes so far.” Balekin says imperiously. 

He turns to me, and when he speaks his voice rings in my ears with the power of the glamour in them. “You are pleased to be my guest and thankful for the lavish accommodations I’ve provided you with. Locke will take you to your room. Your father is awaiting you.” 

The force of the command slams into my mind, leaving me dizzy. 

“There are other ways, Balekin.” The boy says. His eyes are narrowed in anger, the tips of his ears red. 

“Enough, Locke.” 

He turns around and goes to join the party, while Locke leads me down a narrow corridor that seems to be used by the servants. I follow him past a guarded door that leads down into a large wine cellar lined with both bottles and large white oak barrels. There is another door down here, guarded by a group of men in full armor playing cards at a table at the end of the room. One of them spots Locke and jumps up to unlock it for us.

He shuts the door behind us, and the bright lights and sounds of the party are abruptly cut off. The staircase is narrow and the walls are damp with rot. Gone is the opulence of the manor, and as we descend the stairs I hear piteous moans that make the hair on the back of my neck stand up. We reach the landing, and the smell is so overpowering that it almost makes me gag. 

To call this a dungeon would be too generous. There are bars lining the large room in segments that bring stalls in a stable to mind. There isn’t even room for a person to lie down straight. Only some cells are occupied with both fae and humans alike. I walk by a human girl who is smiling to herself and dancing to a song that only she can hear. In another, there is a green-skinned goblin curled up into a ball on the floor, giggling hysterically. A wraith-like woman with pale pink eyes and a shock of white hair is chained to the wall in another stall. When we walk past, she jumps up and reaches for me through the bars faster than I would have thought possible for such a wretched-looking thing. 

“Please,” she moans. “Please, don’t let him find him. He’s only a child. Spare him.” Her voice chokes, and she keeps repeating herself as if stuck in a never-ending loop of despair. “Spare him, spare him, spare him.” 

I swallow the lump in my throat and pull away, only to find my father.

“I’m sorry,” Locke murmurs. He steps aside respectfully as I fall to my knees and grip the bars.

Justin Duarte has always been a large, muscular man, both as a result of his profession and by natural inclination. To see him as a wizened shell of his former self, sickly pale and in rags breaks my heart. He’s lost so much weight that he is gaunt, his collar bones prominent and his cheeks hollow. He sits hunched over in a corner. Unlike the other cells, his is furnished with a tea trolley stacked with food. Pastries, meats, and fruit in bright colors. Faerie food, I realize. 

“Dad?”, I whisper. 

He looks up, and I see that his eyes are clear and alert, even though they are hollow and dark with fatigue and starvation. He clambers over to me and grips my hands through the bars. 

“Jude,” He breathes, “Oh no, Jude. You shouldn’t be here. These people will do anything for power, they’ll kill you without a second thought.”

“I couldn’t let them take Taryn.” I try to blink away the tears in my eyes. “Dad, how did we end up here? How did you get involved in all of this?” 

“Your mother and I wanted to keep you girls safe, so we swore that we would turn our backs on Faerie for good. But when she fell ill...I couldn’t stand by and watch her die without doing anything. I came back to Faerie to seek out my old mentor, the smith Grimsen, and made a deal with him. A concord...a favour granted for a life oath.” He sighed and squeezed my hands.

“Grimsen taught me how to infuse magic into my creations. I tried, but...I couldn’t save her, Jude. The best I could do was make sure she passed in peace, without pain, and surrounded by people that love her. The only magic powerful enough to save her would make her a slave to Faerie, and she didn’t want that. She chose to die free.

“I still owed the smith a favour, one that held a life debt if I refused to follow through on it. I knew I’d give my own before I risked you girls, but Grimsen has always been kind to me and seemed genuinely sorry that he couldn’t help me save my wife. He never came to collect.”

“But then Balekin found him,” Locke murmured. 

I jumped. I’d forgotten that Locke was still here, but he sat crouched beside me now, on the balls of his heels. My father gave him an assessing look and then nodded.  
“Balekin wanted Grimsen to make him another crown. But the magic doesn’t work that way - the crown is simply a conduit for the Greenbriar blood. The magic itself belongs to the land. Every creature in Faerie can access it to some extent, but the Greenbriar line is old and powerful, and the crown’s power has been compounded by every ruler that has worn it. A new crown could not compete with it. But Balekin didn’t like that answer, and so he tortured Grimsen until he told him everything he possibly could. He told him about me. Balekin murdered Grimsen, and claimed the concord debt as his own.

“He sought me out to do what no Fae in their right mind would ever risk doing. He wants me to create a weapon that will destroy the crown.”

“No,” Locke shakes his head. “Not even Balekin would risk such a thing. There is a reason there always has to be a ruler in Faerie. This land is full of wild magic. Without anyone to guide it, it would wreak havoc on every living thing. It would be a catastrophe that would be felt as far as the mortal world. The barriers would weaken, and creatures trapped in the dark corners of Faerie would have free reign.” 

“He thinks he can control it,” Justin sighs. “He’s power-hungry enough to believe that he can take control of it with the sword I made him. _Lament_ feeds on magic, devours it.”

“Oh, dad. You made it for him already?” I whisper. 

“I won’t have you girls suffer for my mistakes. I’ve lost enough to this cursed place already, I’ve earned my freedom,” He leans forward, his voice intense, “Balekin swore that he would set me free if I did this for him. That’s the only reason he laid claim on the concord, now. He wants a bartering chip to trap me into making more toys for him. You shouldn’t have come, Jude. You shouldn’t be here.” 

“I can get her out,” Locke says. My father looks at him, wary, and he huffs, “I don’t know how to unmake this mess, but I do know that this doesn’t need to go further than it has already. I knew Balekin to be ambitious, but I didn’t expect this from him. He can’t be allowed to gain another advantage.”

“I’m not leaving without you,” I say. The idea of leaving him behind in this wretched place is unthinkable to me. 

“Jude, you must.” He cups my cheek in his calloused palm. The tears welling up in my eyes finally fall free. I can’t help it. All the pain and frustration and fear that has been building up over the last few weeks crashes down on me all at once. 

Locke nods at me. “This will be your only chance. These cells are enchanted - once you enter, you aren’t leaving unless Balekin himself lets you out.”

I don’t have a chance to reply, because a deafening explosion goes off somewhere upstairs, which is followed by smaller sporadic ones. Dust falls down on us from the ceiling, and the screams from upstairs are just barely audible.

“Lucky for you,” Locke continues, a sly fox-like grin spreading across his face, “I’ve arranged a distraction.” 


	9. Chapter 9

Another resounding boom echoes through the narrow staircase, followed by the rumbling of crashing brick and mortar. It sounds like the entire west wing went down with the last explosion. Locke stumbles in front of me but quickly catches himself. He spares a moment to throw a glance behind him, hurrying me onward. I urge my body on, my breath coming out in pants as I take the steep stairs two at a time.

This isn’t at all the rescue I had in mind.

For one, I didn’t expect my father to have his own means out. I didn’t expect that my presence would throw a wrench in his plans, that I’d be a liability. But why didn’t I? I learned that he lived in Faerie society for years along with my mother before they fled this life so their children could grow up safely amongst their own kind, where they aren’t considered easy prey. I knew how much they went through to give my sister and me a safe life, so why did I think I could just waltz into a dangerous fae lord’s home without a plan and stage any sort of rescue? 

The wine cellar is empty. The cards the guards were playing with lay scattered on the floor. Here, the screams are much louder, laced with the sound of steel clashing against steel. I grab a forgotten dagger from the table. I don’t know what I could hope to accomplish with it, but the heft of it leaves me feeling slightly less anxious about running headlong into a small warzone. 

Locke cracks the door open and peers through. “The worst of the fighting seems to have moved away from us. Hurry, when we have the chance.”

He throws the door open, motions for me to follow, and slips out of sight, quick as a fox. I curse and follow after him.

The entrance hall is flooded. There’s nothing but an empty arch where the grand double doors used to be, the wood blasted clean out of it’s frame. There are bodies lying everywhere, forgotten - fae dressed in courtly fashion, mortals in servant garb, guards in full livery. There’s a fae in armor that seems to shimmer like scales leaning heavily on what looks to be a trident. I stiffen, but Locke slips past her and so I relax my grip on my stolen dagger and quickly follow close behind. Her eyes are on us as we escape. She lifts her bloodstained hands from the wound in her side and lets out a sharp whistle, a call that is answered by someone deeper inside the manor. 

When we reach the gate, I turn around just in time to see Balekin decapitate the injured woman with a powerful sweep of a sword. The metal gleams in the sunlight, bloodstained and dark, and yet the distinctive swirl of blended metal is unmistakable even from a distance. His eyes meet mine. I turn around and run.

The area is crawling with people and noise. Fae are fleeing away from the carnage, but I spot reinforcements from the palace rushing towards Balekin’s manor, too. Is Dain helping Balekin? Is it Madoc? Or is this just a show of Greenbriar solidarity against an unseen threat? One that Locke implied he invited as a means of distraction. 

I slam my weight into him in a furious tackle, and we slam to the earth in an undignified tangle. I press the dagger to his throat, and he stills. I don’t know if I have it in me to hurt anyone, especially after witnessing so much carnage, but I’m tired of being treated like a clueless bargaining chip. It’s time I had some answers. 

“What game are you playing here?” 

“Easy,” He breathes, his voice sounding pained. “I meant what I said. Balekin needs to be stopped. I meant what I said earlier.”

“And you intend to do that by inviting an invasion of...who were they, exactly?” 

A regiment of guards wearing Madoc’s colors tramples near us, and Locke takes the opportunity of my momentary distraction to shove me off and wriggle away. He straightens his jacket and dusts himself off, scowling.

“Do you really want to have this argument now, or can it wait until we’re back at the castle?”

I cross my arms. “I can make my way back just fine, thanks.”

His expression softens. “Look, let me take you back. I need to talk to Cardan, get through to Dain somehow. There’s more going on than you know, forces that have been in motion for a long time. The king’s life is in danger. Balekin has spies in the Court of Shadows. This attack was a setup. It’s an excuse to make his move for the crown.”  
My mind whirrs. I think of Dain, regal and scheming, crowned only a few hours ago. I think of the Bomb, Roach, and the Court of Shadows. People who tended to me while I recovered from my injury, who I’d begun to feel a tentative camaraderie with. I think of my sister, alone in this pit of vipers, as vulnerable to fae glamour as I am. And Cardan. I don’t know how to process the complicated tangle of emotions and desire I feel when it comes to him. 

Trust your instincts.

“We need to get into the eastern grounds,” I find myself saying. “I know a way we can get you an audience with the king.”

The royal army seems to be mobilizing near the main square, but the grounds I lead Locke across are quiet and deserted. I find the tree with the large gnarled roots that marks an entrance to the underground tunnel system that the Court of Shadows uses. I’ve never used this particular one from the outside, so it takes me a moment to find the entrance and even longer to figure out the mechanism that releases the latch. I lower myself through the narrow opening, with Locke following close behind me. 

My memory of the tunnel system is hazy at best - Taryn is the one that spent days exploring it with Ghost - and I’m afraid that we’ll end up stumbling around in the darkness, lost. My fear turns out to be unfounded, though, since a shadow in a faceless mask slips in front of my path. Behind me, Locke lets out a strangled yell. 

“Jude?”, The Bomb says, incredulously. “How did you - the castle is in an uproar. We think there’s been a security breach in the tunnels, too. Was that - “

“Yeah, that was us,” I nod towards Locke. “There’s a lot to tell.” 

Less than half an hour later, we’re gathered in the headquarters of the Court of Shadows. Taryn is as furious with me as I expected her to be, but it doesn’t stop her from hugging me as soon as she sees me and then settling down on the sofa next to me. Cardan is on my other side, his long fingers idly playing with the scabbard of my stolen dagger. It takes me a while to explain what little I understand of my father’s involvement in all of this, and the power of the sword that I saw Balekin wield. 

“And what’s your part in all of this?,” He says to Locke, finally.

Locke smiles faintly, “We used to be friends once, Cardan. I hope we can find that again.”

“That was a long time ago, and you’ve got plenty of friends already, by the look of it. What are your ties to the Undersea?” 

“The relevant question you should be asking me is what are Balekin’s connections? How convenient that he has both reason and resource to mobilize against the king the very day of the coronation.”

Roach and Ghost exchange a look, but Cardan’s face remains impassive. 

“All I ask is a private audience with the king,” Locke continues. “There is a leak in your security network. Balekin has an informant planted, so I cannot know who to trust. Whether you want to believe in my intentions or not, the fact remains that the king’s life and the crown are in danger.”

“In danger from whom, exactly?” Roach asks, frowning, “The Undersea cannot win a direct assault without both sides suffering massive casualties. They’d be mad to attempt it with Madoc as general.” 

“And what does Madoc have to gain by defending the Greenbriar thorn?” 

I close my eyes. “He wants Balekin to destroy it. The ensuing chaos would only secure his power, not diminish him to just a mere general.”

“And if Balekin were to go too far…” The Bomb mutters, and curses under her breath. 

Locke nods. “He has an excuse to rid himself of the farce entirely and do as he pleases.” 

Roach stands and nods towards Ghost. “We’ll take him,” He says. Ghost shrugs and binds Locke’s hands and feet in clever knots that are loose enough to enable movement but secure enough to prevent him from escaping. Locke sighs but doesn’t put up a fight, and follows Roach into the tunnel leading to the royal war room with Ghost trailing close behind. 

Taryn has been pacing restlessly since they left. Watching her steps makes the coil of anxiety in my chest wind tighter and tighter. I stand up and rest a hand on her shoulder. 

"He'll be alright," I murmur quietly. 

"Dad?" She laughs, "I'm convinced he's the only one with any sort of plan in this place. A terrible plan, but still a plan."

"Not dad," I say, smiling. She stiffens for a moment but then nods. I leave her with her thoughts and make my way to the little side room that fulfills the dubious double function of store cupboard and interrogation chamber. 

I find Cardan lounging on the rickey cot in the corner, nursing a glass of wine. He raises his glass to me and takes a sip when he sees me. 

“Isn’t immortality going to be rubbish without a functioning liver?” I say as I sit beside him and pluck the glass from his hand and take a sip. 

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Not if you’re here to rescue me.”

I tip the contents of the glass into my mouth and swallow, the liquid leaving a trail of burning fire as it travels down my throat. Faerie wine is like no alcohol I’ve ever had before. It tastes as sweet as the most luscious honeyed mead but hits you as hard as distilled moonshine. I wonder if it affects the fae in the same way. Judging by Cardan’s flushed cheeks and bright eyes, I imagine it does.

“Consider yourself rescued,” I grin. His gaze flicks down to my lips, and I feel a blush creeping up on me. The memory of our kiss during the coronation rises between us, an unspoken moment that stretches the silence between us. I carefully raise my hand to his face, and he stills and then sighs as I run my fingers over his lips, his jaw. He takes my hand in his and plants a courtly kiss over my knuckles, right near the ring that I’m still wearing. 

“What did you make me forget, Cardan?” 

“You don’t need me to tell you that,” He says, his eyes suggestively roaming down my body.

“You’re that bad, huh? You’re lucky I’m a mortal. Most guys don’t get a do-over.” 

He lets out a surprised bark of laughter and wraps an arm around me, pulling me close. My body automatically molds into his, seeking the comfort of his warmth and familiarity. I rest my head against his shoulder and trace lazy circles over his heart. 

“I hate feeling like I’m constantly adrift. I hate only seeing half the picture. I hate not being able to trust my own mind.”

“You can trust me,” He murmurs.

“But what if I don’t figure out this puzzle I’ve set out for myself? What is at stake?”

He sighs and holds me tighter. “Jude, the situation is...unprecedented. There was little time and few options. This was the only way to both save everybody and make sure you don’t have a target painted on your back.” He nuzzles my neck and huffs a laugh that sends tingles across my skin. “Besides, you’re the most conniving little schemers I’ve ever met, and I’m fae. You’ll find your way back to me. You always do.”

I tilt my head up to his, our faces inches apart. My fingers lazily trail across the back of his neck and into his hair. I grip gently and pull his head down towards me. His breath quickens, and I’m pleased with the reaction I can elicit from this beautiful boy with the slightest touch. I close the distance and kiss him gently, and then suddenly his lips are crushing down against mine and our bodies are pressed against each other in a frenzy of need. My hands are pulling at his hair, his clothes, and his are roaming down my back. I straddle him, and his grip on my hips is urgent, frantic. 

After all I’ve been through today, my body yearns for the comfort of release with this beautiful stranger who somehow means everything to me. His fingers fumble over the buttons of my shirt, and I guide him, helping him. I want to lose myself. I want to forget that Cardan was forced to crown the brother that murdered his father and most of his family to secure our safety in this unforgiving place. I want to forget the blank, empty expression on my sister’s face as Balekin glamours her. I want to forget the memory of my father locked up in a prison cell, half-starved and desperate for me to leave him behind. I want to forget the expression on the beautiful fae woman’s face as Balekin decapitates her, her fish-scale armor glittering in the sun. 

“The king is in danger,” I gasp against Cardan’s lips, breaking the kiss. “The Undersea isn’t allied with Balekin. Madoc’s men were rushing towards the attacking Undersea. Locke was telling the truth about the security breach in the Court of Shadows, and about the coup. I brought him here, Cardan.”

He stiffens and pulls his shirt back on. “Balekin doesn’t intend on fighting anybody. Locke is the spy, Locke is leading the coup.” 

I nod, my heart sinking. How long has it been since they left? Cardan and I rush through to the main area, startling the Bomb awake. 

“What’s the matter?” Taryn asks, worried. 

I shake my head and rush out into the tunnels, everyone close at my heels. In my heart, I know it’s been too long. I know that Balekin has won. I’ve been played for a fool, convinced that I could outwit immortal tricksters who have infinitely more experience with deception than I do.

We burst into the war room, and the first thing I see is blood. It seems to be everywhere - splattered on the walls, on the furniture, and slowly spreading in a large puddle around Dain’s body. A dagger is pierced deep within his heart, and his skin has already taken the pallid hue of death. 

“You’re too late. He tricked us all,” A voice says weakly. With a cry, the Bomb rushes to Roach’s side. He’s on the ground, bleeding from multiple wounds.

Everybody’s eyes are trained on the corpse of the king, so it’s a while until I notice Locke lying in an unconscious heap against the far wall. Roach lets out a weak cough and wheezes,

“Ghost murdered the king. He played us all for fools.”


	10. Chapter 10

Footsteps echo down the corridor behind us, cornering us in the room with Dain’s corpse. They’re the heavy, metal-clad footfalls of the castle guards. The noise is distant to me - my senses are overwhelmed by the sharp tang of blood in the air. I’ve watched Ghost kill without hesitation. I’ve lived amongst the fae for weeks now, long enough to understand the brutal ways of their society. And yet, the abruptness with which this fae lord’s life - this king - has been severed is shocking. His eyes are open and staring, his mouth set in a rictus of pain. His death was not easy. My brain refuses to comprehend that the classmate I once daydreamed about in Chemistry class is capable of this slaughter. 

Dain meant little to me - I suffered no illusions about his character or his intentions. But he had his crown, and his word offered Cardan safety and independence, and by extension, I hoped that some measure of that would trickle down to me and my sister. Nevermind that he was willing to trade our lives away to Balekin like we are little more than playthings. In a world where nothing makes any sense, Dain’s promise represented some measure of stability, even if that happened to be a complete farce. For a few moments, I had myself convinced that my sister and I would find a way out of this mess. 

I can’t take my eyes off the corpse. The crown has fallen off his head and is sitting in a pool of blood that steadily creeps across the flagstone floor as it grows. I step backward, into Taryn. She seems to be as shell-shocked as I am. 

A group of armored guards enters the room, quickly flanking out towards the sides and surrounding us. They’re rough in their treatment of Roach, and the Bomb lets out a cry of protest but helps him climb to his feet, wincing. Another guard goes off to check on Locke, whose heritage allows him more gentle treatment in their eyes. 

A tall man follows into the room. He spares Dain’s corpse a quick glance, his lip curling. His teeth are sharp and the ends pointed. They almost look too big for his mouth. I suppress a shiver as he bends down and picks up the crown, thumbs a bit of blood off the metal, and then licks it off his finger. I feel sickened. 

“Madoc,” Cardan sneers. “Still a vulture circling around somebody else’s kill, looking for scraps?”

Madoc smiles his sharp smile, his mouth red. “Boy, be grateful that you aren’t important enough to be worth my notice. You’ve been away from court too long to remember how I deal with arrogant pups. For your own sake, hope I don’t feel like reminding you.”

I squeeze Cardan’s hand. My memory feels disjointed - like there are dark shadows in my mind that I dare not glance at for fear of what I will see. This man - Madoc - is a thing of nightmares. I instinctively know he isn’t to be trifled with. His gold cat eyes swivel to me, his smile still locked in place. I freeze. 

“You are, however, witnesses to the murder of a king and must remain in the custody of the royal guard until I have further orders.”

“We didn’t witness anything!” The Bomb cries. 

Madoc replies to her, but his eyes are still on mine. I can’t look away. “Are you, or are you not part of Dain’s inner intelligence circle? One of your own has murdered your liege, and if I were you I would be very cooperative in an effort to prove to Balekin that you are not an accomplice to his brother’s murderer.”

“Like Balekin ever gave a damn about Dain. I am a member of the royal family. I -” A guard walks up and punches Cardan in the stomach, winding him. I move to help him, but I am being restrained, along with my sister next to me. 

“You are nothing but a stray pup that doesn’t know when to keep it’s head down,” Madoc says softly. 

We are unceremoniously deposited into the cavernous, rugged room that the Court of Shadows uses as it’s home base. At first I am taken aback by this unexpected mercy - I expected to be intimidated into submission in the dungeons. It takes a moment for the unsaid message that Madoc is sending to set in - _I know your secrets. You cannot keep anything from me, you cannot hide from me._

I collapse into a chair, and Cardan sits on the table in front of me. Of course, he pours himself a mug of gooseberry cider. For once, I don’t think his alcoholism is an overreaction to the events of the day and I motion for him to pour me a glass as well. He complies, and his fingers linger on our touch for a moment before intertwining with mine. There is an unspoken shift as we meet each other’s eyes. It’s time to stop pretending. 

“We’ve suspected for a while that there is a mole in the Court of Shadows. I just - Ghost is the last person I would have expected it from. He has as much reason as I do to hate their lot, if not more.” Cardan says. 

The Roach snorts. “You thought it was me, didn’t you? I don’t blame you. Ghost wouldn’t have been my first guess, either. I thought, maybe…” He glances at Taryn and me guiltily. 

“We didn’t even know that Faeries existed until last month, Roach,” Taryn sighs, crossing her arms.

“It was just the most likely outcome, at the time,” The Bomb says while fussing over Roach’s injuries. “You are mortal, which makes you natural liars. And you seemed to have come out of nowhere just as things began to happen.”

After she is satisfied with her administrations, she affectionately pats Roach's hair and then bustles off to one of the cabinets. She checks on Locke next, carefully parting his hair with nimble fingers. 

She grimaces. “Oh, that’s going to be a nasty bump.”

“I’m glad that’s all it is. If he didn’t jump in when he did, I might not be standing here.” Roach said grimly.

“But Ghost wouldn’t...not you. He wouldn’t seriously hurt you.” 

Roach closes his eyes. “I’ve sparred with him often enough to know the difference. He was aiming to kill. I owe Locke my life.”

The Bomb purses her lips. The stress of the day has left her dappled skin pale. She pulls out a jar full of violently orange powder that I know from experience is sharp enough to burn a hole through my nasal passage. She waves it around under Locke’s nose and he immediately wakes with a groan. 

He shakes his head and winces. “Roach-”

“Here, thanks to you.”

Locke nods. “I didn’t figure it out in time. Ghost is working with the Undersea. They’re organizing a coup.”

“The distraction you organized,” I murmur.

He nods. “I got the tip-off from Ghost. He set the meeting up, to begin with, he was the liaison. There were whispers among those in the know about something being planned, of a potential leak in Dain’s inner circle. With mortals in the court of shadows, it seemed obvious who the betrayers would be. It didn’t occur to me that it would be him.”

“He was loyal to Dain,” The Bomb says. “It makes no sense. Why would he throw it all away, just as things had finally fallen into place for us?” 

Cardan pours another glass and pushes it towards Locke, who accepts it gratefully. “We had no reason to suspect him, so he never had to lie. I’ve been away from this court for too long.”

“You aren’t the only one to blame, Cardan,” Locke says, “He made a fool of us all. And now we’re at the mercy of Balekin and Madoc’s forces. As bad as they can be, they’re still the Greenbriar court. The Undersea is merciless.” 

I play with the metal band on my finger anxiously. My thoughts are troubled. The fae cider is starting to mess with my mind. I push it away. Relying on a creature like Balekin for my father’s freedom makes me anxious, but I have no choice. I have to trust that he knows what he signed up for, and understands the path out of this mess. The fact that he survived this world as long as he did must count for something. I think of the squalor that he’s been living in, locked away in a tiny cell, surrounded by the most wretched fae that have gotten on the wrong side of the high prince. I think of the fae woman in gleaming fish-scale armor, her eyes on me as I flee the manor that’s overflowing with death. Of Balekin, decapitating her with the starsilver sword Lament. The same metal that I wear on my finger. There’s blood on the floor, soaking into the soil. Red covers the golden leaves strewn across the forest floor. The ripe fruit hanging from the trees turns putrid, sickly. There’s a smiling man with too sharp teeth holding his clawed hands out, and next to him is a woman. Slight, young, with yellow cat eyes.

“Jude?” Cardan murmurs, touching my shoulder gently. 

I know her. I feel it in my bones. What dark corner of my mind have I tried to bury, and why? Before I can wrest a reply out of my tangled thoughts, the door crashes open, and Balekin enters. He slams a fist down on the table, his gauntleted fist disrupting the glasses and spilling drink.

“Everything you know about the Undersea. Now.” He snarls at Locke.

He is covered in gore, his hair disheveled and a manic gleam in his eyes. Madoc follows close behind. Even though he seems to be in far better shape than Balekin, there is a grim set to his features. 

“I - I know as much as Ghost told me. I was only trying to get Jude back to Cardan.”

“Well, we found Ghost as he was trying to flee the palace. I’m sure Madoc will have specifics out of him in no time.”

“But it doesn’t make sense. why are the Undersea attacking now, when my plans are about to fall into place?” He rounds on me, snarling, “These mortals are involved. They came for her, and the other one. I know it. Why do you matter?”

“I - I don’t,” I stammer, bewildered, “Certainly not to the royal fae court.”

“Then why are you not kept like the bartering chips that you are? Why did Dain suffer you in his inner circle?” 

“Because I made a deal with him,” Cardan says quietly. “A deal for their safety, for lands of my own. For freedom, and a vow to never set my sights on the throne. An offer that I am extending to you.”

Balekin stiffens. 

“It is curious,” Madoc interjects, “the extremes you go to in order to protect these mortals. Have they beguiled you so, young pup? I can see the appeal -” His eyes hover over me suggestively, and my skin crawls, “- indeed, I myself have enjoyed the passion that only a mortal can provide. But they are fleeting because they are changeable. They are liars.”

“I go to extremes,” Cardan says, “Because Jude is my wife.”

My mind reels. Memories that were the barest wisps of dreams crystallize into moments that I hold dear in my heart. Some part of me remembered, I realize. The days spent in his company, in his arms. The long study sessions, the soft touches. I remember him at the dinner table in my home, laughing at something Vivi has said, while my father cooks the special meal he makes when he means to impress. I remember Taryn curling my hair and telling me how happy she is for me, with tears in her eyes. I remember him slipping a band of starsilver with the Greenbriar thorns on my finger and soft whispers of undying vows under the night sky. Promises more binding, more eternal than anything in the mortal world. 

Balekin barks out a laugh, delighted. “You poor fool. She will change, and you will not. And she will die as you live on. Exile has truly poisoned your mind, but I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. I will claim the crown, with my little brother’s blessing.” 

“Where’s Vivi?” I murmur, dazed. Why does nobody remember? Why are memories of her so hard for me to grasp on to? 

Balekin from me and my empty glass and then snorts, but Madoc’s gaze is focused on me. 

“Another mortal friend of yours?” He asks softly. 

Cardan subtly positions himself in front of me, his body language tense. Why did I want to forget the girl with the yellow cat eyes? Why did I want to forget my sister?

“Yes,” I mumble. “She was with us the day we came here.”

“She was to meet us inside the mall, Jude, remember? She’s probably wondering what happened to us,” Taryn says. I meet her eyes, and I can tell she has no idea who I’m talking about. But I am grateful. 

“At least you don’t have any family left in the mortal world to worry about you,” Madoc smiles, “I knew your mother, you know. Terrible what happened to her.”

I see my own shock mirrored in my twin’s face. I want to ask him what he knows, but I also know that he wants me to ask this. I want to claw the smug, knowing smile off his face. Cardan grips my hand, grounding me. I refuse to play into their fae games. 

“Well, this one seems to have some grit to her, at least.” He glances away from me, and I am dismissed. “Regardless, a foolish choice that you will regret in time.”

Madoc nods towards a guard by the door and exchanges a few quiet words with him. 

“I must attend to the Undersea problem, it seems that this assault is larger than we feared and must be contained before it gets out of control.” 

“We can contain it,” Balekin says.

“Quite, your highness.” Madoc replies, “They stand no chance against our numbers. It will be a slaughter, but an arduous one all the same.” He performs a sharp military bow to Balekin, who waves him off and then leaves the room with a good number of guards. 

Balekin sets Lament down on the table, and the blood-stained crown in front of it. He unlaces his gloves and methodically begins removing pieces of dented armor. 

“I accept your offer,” He says to Cardan, and then pointedly looks at the crown. “Do it.”

Cardan scoffs. “I imagined you’d want more of a spectacle. Do you really want to deal with the political fallout a private, slapdash coronation would create?”

Balekin finishes removing his armor and drops the pieces to the floor with a loud clatter that makes Locke wince. He idly traces the sharp, jagged peaks of the crown, designed to look like thorns. 

“No time like the present, little brother. Besides, the palace is under attack, if you haven’t noticed. It would be good for morale if the Greenbriar court could present a unified front against the invaders. Not to mention, the power…” He licks his lips. “Think of all the lives you’d save if our defense didn’t have to rely on the bodies of our soldiers alone.”

Cardan hesitates. 

The sound of fighting nears us, now. The distant screams of pain are clearly audible. They must have broken into the main area of the palace. A piercing battle horn sounds, followed by the rumbling crash of what sounds like an entire wall collapsing. I shift, uncomfortable. I can see that Cardan is about to bend and crown the man responsible for his exile. There is a moment of tension, of Balekin’s eager face.

Then the explosion goes off in the room above us, and the ceiling caves in. 

Taryn is pulling me away from the wreckage that Cardan and I are tangled in. She’s shouting something at me, but there’s a ringing in my ears and I can’t hear her. Cardan is pinned beneath the table, and Taryn and I release him with a desperate heave. Locke and Balekin seem unhurt if covered in dust, Balekin clutching the crown to his chest like a precious child. Of the four guards that Madoc left behind, only one remains. With a sinking heart, I realize that they must be trapped under the rubble along with Bomb and Roach.

“Roach!” I shout. My hearing returns with a painful pop, but I ignore it. “Bomb, can you hear me?”

“I’m here! We’re both alright.” The Bomb answers, her voice muffled, “We’ll take the back exit out towards the grounds. You’re going to have to make your way through the fighting.”

The screams are closer now, as are the desperate sounds of men fighting for their lives. There’s a scuffle by the half-destroyed doorway, and the remaining guard takes a gash on his shoulder before dispatching one of the invaders. Balekin curses.

“We have to move, this area isn’t safe anymore.” 

Balekin and the guard lead the way, while Locke and I help Cardan hobble along on his injured leg. As much as I hate to rely on Balekin, I don’t see that we have much choice. As we move away from the twisting underbelly that the Court of Shadows thrives in and near the upper floors, the more obvious signs of fighting are apparent. We slosh through the inches of water that seems to be flooding the entire level, corpses of both the Undersea and Greenbriar leaking swirls of red that we wade through. 

“I thought we were supposed to be winning,” Locke muttered. 

Balekin’s jaw tightens. “The throne room. Any standing forces will gather there, and we can barricade ourselves in there.” He takes out a straggler with a furious jab and then points towards the room in question with the tip of his bloodied sword. The guard nods and shoulders his way ahead of Balekin. 

I try to hurry along behind, without causing Cardan more hurt than he needs to experience. His breath is coming out in shallow pants, and his fringe is slick with sweat and stuck to his forehead. 

“We’re almost there. Soon, you and Taryn and I will be out of this court and of no consequence to any of these people. Taryn-”

I glance behind us, and my sister isn’t there. Locke looks around and curses. 

“She must have gotten turned around during the fighting. There aren’t many side routes, I’ll go find her. I swear. Take Cardan and go, you two are sitting ducks out here.”

He doesn’t wait for my response and hurries off back the way we came. I want to go look for Taryn, but the sudden weight of Cardan leaning on me entirely is almost too much for me to bear. It takes all my strength to hold him upright. I stumble, and we nearly go down, but somehow I maintain my balance. 

There is a clash of swords, and Madoc appears opposite us. “Go!” He shouts and turns around to defend himself as he and his entourage slowly back their way towards the throne room. I grunt with effort and pull Cardan along with me, and then collapse next to him in a heap once we’re clear of the barricade the soldiers inside are setting up. 

“Cardan?” His leg is bleeding. It looks like it was crushed badly, and sits at an awkward angle beneath him. 

“Just a flesh wound.” He grimaces in pain.

Balekin directs a group of soldiers to fortify the windows and then walks up to us with his wounded guard still in tow. There’s a flurry of blade strikes and a vicious cry of victory by the door, and then Madoc enters the room and the door is slammed shut behind him. A deadbolt is dropped into place, and the soldiers stand at attention, anxiously defending against an enemy that should have been at a severe disadvantage.

“Now, Cardan.” Balekin holds the crown out towards his brother impatiently. “Is this spectacle enough for you? We need to end this cursed disaster.”

“As you can see, Balekin, I am currently indisposed.” Cardan gasps out in pain but leans up on his elbows. I move over to help him, which gives me a clear view of Madoc as he strides towards us.

And runs his sword through the injured guard’s heart. He goes down with a soft choke of surprise before I can blink. Balekin doesn’t turn around quickly enough to block the next thrust that takes him in the gut, and the crown clatters to the floor. Madoc viciously kicks him off his sword, his face covered in gore and his sharp teeth in a wide grin. He bends down and pries Lament from Balekin’s hands, raises it high in a two-handed grip. 

And then slams it down on top of the crown, shattering it. There’s a shockwave reverberates through the room, and cracks form in the ground where the crown lay in pieces. Around them, the entire palace is beginning to crumble

“What...what have you done,” Balekin gasps.


	11. Vivienne

**_Vivienne_ **

_ “A long time ago, in a gloomy little town that nobody at all cared about, there lived a girl with big dreams. There was only one bus stop, and it stood deserted. This little girl loved stories, you see. She dearly wanted to go on an exciting adventure.  _

_ She talked to all the old people in her town. They had their roots set deep into the soil, generations growing upon generations. They did have much to tell her, but they weren’t things that the girl liked hearing about. They talked about raising animals and growing crops. She also chatted up those who came visiting through, who were very loud and much more interesting. But nobody she talked to went anywhere special at all. Even the out-of-towners didn’t go very far. At least they had good stories. She didn’t talk to her papa much, because he had a very bad temper and didn’t like to think of his daughter going away.  _

_ As she grew older, the stories dried up. Her father didn’t like her talking to people about going away lest she leaves him as her mother did. But her heart was bursting with the need to see the world. Her little town felt like a cage.  _

_ Then, one day, a magnificent faerie lord visited her while she was gardening. He was beautiful and slightly terrifying, with sharp teeth and a beguiling smile.  _

_ Come with me, and I’ll show you things that nobody in your town has ever seen,” He said to her. _

_ So she went with him, and he took her to a magical land full of the most incredible sights she had ever seen. Enchanted forests full of the sweetest fruit that would make you laugh for hours if you ate it. Magical castles full of wonderful art that moved like it was alive, and music so beautiful that it made her soul ache. She drank sweet gooseberry cider and danced until she collapsed.  _

_ The fae lord, fascinated by her hunger for life, wanted to keep her for his own. This suited her quite well for a while, and soon she forgot all about the little town and the boring people from her old life.  _

_ One day, the faerie lord commissioned a famous blacksmith to craft a sword made of starsilver. She spent days talking with him in his forge, and he told her about all the interesting places he’d visited in the human world, for her was also a mortal just like herself. He was kind and patient, and she made him laugh until he had tears in his eyes. Slowly, they fell in love with each other. He asked her to come away with him, but she was afraid of what the faerie lord might do in vengeance if she ran away, for he came to think of her as a prized possession.  _

_ But the smith was cunning, and he knew of a secret path back to the human world. So, that very same night, they ran away together -” _

_ “But, then she wouldn’t get to live with the faeries anymore!” complained Vivienne. _

_ “But that was alright, you see. Because soon after she came back to the human world, she gave birth to a beautiful little girl with eyes like a cat, who was half fae and half mortal. She got to live among her own kind, while also keeping a little bit of magic with her.” _

_ “Like me!” Vivi yelled, her toddler eyes wide.  _

_ Her mother smiled. “Yes, like you.” _

I wave to my sisters in the crowd, my drumsticks dangerously close to clipping the bassist’s ear. He dodges around me good-naturedly. My sisters are bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, excited to be at their first concert. I grin. I’ll put on a show for them tonight. 

“Hey buddy, did you set up the pyrotech yet?” I ask the lanky guy - Jeremy? Jason? - that our band’s vocalist has been dating for a while now. Personally, I think of him as a tad too wet around the ears, but he seemed to make my friend happy which is what matters in the end. Besides, it's useful to have reliable tech support at all our gigs. 

“Working on it, right now,” He says and drops the microphone that he was holding. It screeches feedback, which draws boos from the crowd. He blushes. “Right now,” He repeats. 

“Isn’t he just darling?” Mia walks up beside me. A gorgeous redhead with a body like an hourglass and a tongue like a dagger, our main vocalist commands attention no matter where she is. 

“Can’t say he’s my type,” I say. 

“No, I don’t suppose he is,” she replies, amused. “How are things with Heather, anyway?”

“Oh, you know. Same old. Can’t complain.” 

“You want to hold on to this one, Vee. If you try really hard, you may occasionally have feelings and then be able to talk about them.” Mia grins and dodges my halfhearted swipe. 

“I talk to Heather about feelings just fine. The trouble is, I have to talk to everyone else, too. Her friends, her brother...I’m dating Heather, for god’s sake. Not her entire social circle,” I grumble. I pause for a moment, hesitant, and then add, “I’m meeting her folks today.”

Mia whistles. “Things are getting serious.”

“Yeah,” I take a deep breath. “Yeah, I suppose they are.”

“Does that mean you’re missing the party tonight?”

Mia’s post-gig parties are an experience. We’ve been relevant enough on the scene to attract our fair share of groupies, but it used to be easy to keep our distance. Our recent record deal with a major label has propelled us into the spotlight. We’re the cool new band that young celebrities and influencers want to hang out with. And it’s hard to say no because it’s good for our image. It’s not that I hate the idea, but the pretentiousness of it all makes me uncomfortable. Not to mention, the faerie dust. I’ve been meaning to talk to Mia about that recent addition to her wild parties, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet. 

I know Heather is somewhere in the crowd, but I don’t spot her dusty pink bob anywhere in the mass of cheering teenagers. It isn’t until after we’re finished with our first set, and I have sweat running down my neck in rivulets that I find a moment to myself. I sign some T-shirts for a couple of people. 

A guy leaning by one of the tables walks up to me. He’s dressed strangely, in scraps of leather and dark fabric. He’s handsome as hell and even though I don’t quite lean that way, I can’t deny the sheer magnetic draw he has on me. I notice a couple of girls watching him, but he ignores them and walks up to me. 

“Cool outfit,” I tell him, “Who are you cosplaying?”

“I’m not here to play, little cat.” He smiles and hands me a card. I'm instantly less impressed by how aesthetically pleasing his face is. God, what a weirdo, but technically not inappropriate enough to be worth kicking up a fuss about. I sigh and accept the piece of cardboard - it’s a little drawing of a golden four-leaf clover, with the words  _ ‘Lucky Boar’ _ and a local address written in an old fashioned script.

“Look, buddy. I’m not looking to buy anything, so if you don’t want an autograph I’m going to have to ask you to step aside.” 

“Oh, I’m not selling anything,” He says. As he looks at me, his eyes change from a nondescript brown to a startling cat-eye yellow. The same as mine beneath my contacts. “But I reckon you’re looking for something, and if you want to find it, then that’s the place to go.”

I’m stunned. I’ve never met anyone like me before. He turns around and melts into the crowd before I can formulate a reply. The group of girls who were checking him out a moment ago take his place, now clamoring for me to sign their stuff. I bite back my frustration and do my best to be obliging, even though my mind is still on his strange eyes and who he could be. I stick the card into my pocket.

Eventually, I pull my hoodie up, and pull a flu-mask with skulls and crosses on it and put it on. In an instant, I go from popular new rockstar to the kid you see lurking in a corner of Hot Topic. Disguise complete. I text my girlfriend, and she responds instantly. I grin and make my way toward the food trucks. I find her with Taryn near the guy selling cotton candy. 

“What are you guys, five years old? How did you manage to find the most concentrated source of sugar within a 5-mile radius so fast?” I say. 

Taryn sticks her bright blue tongue out at me, and Heather shoves a mass of fluffy confectionary right into my face. I laugh and take a bite to appease her, and then wrap my arms around her. She’s shorter than me, and always so warm. Her hair is almost the same colour as her cotton candy, and it tickles my nose. 

“Where’s Jude, anyway?” I ask

“She went to find the toilets, maybe I should go look for her.” Introducing Taryn: sister, overachiever, worrywart. 

“It’s a closed enclosure, Tar, and she’s a big girl. Why don’t you call her before you decide to start worrying.”

She pulls her phone out and struggles to work the touch screen with her fingers covered in sticky candy. I roll my eyes and hit the speed dial on my own beat-up old android and hand it over to her. She beams at me and wanders off, waiting for the call to connect.

Heather plants a soft kiss on me, and I feel my cheeks warm. I’m glad to have found her with Taryn like this. I knew they’d love each other. What her family will think of me, however, is another matter altogether. 

“Hey, Vee, I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

I suppress a momentary surge of panic. _ She’s not going to break up with you, you idiot. Stop assuming the worst. It’s probably about how your socks smell. They’re my lucky socks, I can’t wash them before a gig because that would ruin- _

“It’s about...the parties,” She mumbles. 

_ Oh. That.  _

“I thought we talked about this already,” I say carefully, “You know what it’s like, we have to treat the band like a business. And this is good for business.”

“Drugs and debauchery are good for business? This isn’t the 80s anymore, Vee. That lifestyle isn’t cool.” 

“Listen to yourself. Drugs and debauchery? Everyone gets high once in a while, and a couple of kids hook up sometimes. That’s just how parties are. I know this seems like a lot to you, but-” 

“Don’t you patronize me,” Heather says, her normally sweet voice turning shrill. People around us begin to stare. “I may not be Miss Superstar Mia, but that doesn’t mean you can treat me like some small-town hick that doesn’t have a clue. This is  _ wrong.  _ You’re going down a bad path and I don’t want to watch you crash and burn. You don’t need to fit in.”

“So that’s what this is about. Mia has a boyfriend, you know,” I tell her.

It seems like that was the wrong thing to say.

“That is  _ not  _ what this is about. This is about you making bad choices that I can’t just hang around and watch-”

“Those bad choices are my friends, Heather.” My voice comes out louder than I intend it to. I don’t understand why I’m so angry, but I am. Wasn’t I thinking these exact same thoughts less than an hour ago? Why does it sound so much worse to hear Heather say them out loud? 

“Those bad choices,” I continue, unable to stop myself, “are people I like. I am not going to stop hanging out with them because you’ve decided to look down on them from your high horse.”

“I’m not-” She mumbles, but I press on, interrupting her.

“I thought that you, of all people, would be less judgemental and be able to see the good in people below the surface. I guess that’s not how that works. I guess you can only do that when it’s a pet project that you decide to take on when it’s someone you decide you want to fix.” 

I want to stop, but the words keep pouring out of me. I don’t believe these things I’m saying, not really. But all my insecurities are tumbling out, and I’m shouting now. 

“And if you can’t hang around and watch me make my bad choices, then don’t,” I say. 

There are tears in her eyes, and I know I’ve gone too far. She pulls away and runs off without a word. I want to go after her, but Taryn quietly hands my phone back to me. How long has she been standing there? How much did she hear? There’s a text telling me to get ready for the second set. I sigh and walk back toward the stage. 

The rest of the day passes in a blur. I close my eyes to the crowd and to the world, letting the music distract me. When I’m feeling so much that I’m at the point of bursting, a good session at my drum kit has always helped me get it out of my system until I feel better. Today, it only makes me feel worse. 

After the concert is over, I grab a drink and follow the band into one of the warehouses set up behind the stage. It’s still fairly early in the evening, but there are already people milling about. I keep my eyes peeled for the weird cosplayer from earlier, but I don’t see him. I grab a drink from the bar instead.

“Penny for your thoughts?” B-tier celebrity and Instagram personality extraordinaire, Tony Pajamas slides up to me. That’s actually the stage name he decided to go with. Although, ‘stage name’ is a bit duplicitous. One has to have performed a talent on a stage somewhere at some point for the word to apply. 

“Gonna cost you more than that,” I reply. 

“How about I pay with this?” He clinks his glass against my bottle of beer, and then swaps our drinks. I peer into the glass and then take a tentative sniff. It’s a clear, gold liquid with a slight fizz to it. It smells delicious, but knowing Tony, it’s probably spiked with something nasty. 

“How many years am I going to do in jail if I get arrested for this?” I ask dubiously. 

“It’ll be worth every minute, baby. Gooseberry cider with a little bit of something extra. There’s a new player in town called the Lucky Boar. Tastes like honey and goes down like gasoline, and then you go all koo-koo for a bit after.”

I down the entire glass in one go.

I’ve always had an unusually high tolerance towards alcohol, but this will likely still go to my head. But that’s good, I’m looking for a buzz. Besides, the horrified expression on Tony’s face makes the burning in my throat worth it. I take my beer back from his hand and replace it with the empty glass, and then give him a little wave.

“How-” He frowns, looking down at the empty glass. “We had to take the last guy to the ER…”

I wander through the crowd, bumping into people as I make my way toward the dance floor. There’s a bunch of regulars here that I know by sight if not by name, and that’s good enough for me. I join them and they cheer, and soon I’m lost to a different kind of beat. The alcohol must have affected me harder than I realize, because the next thing I know, Mia is grabbing me and pulling me outside. 

“What the hell, Vee? Weren’t you going to meet Heather’s family tonight?” She sounds concerned. I almost laugh at the thought of Mia being the responsible one for a change, but I hold it in. Jeremy-Josh is hovering around in the background, forever her shadow. 

I wonder what the time is, I’ve completely lost track. 

“She’s done with me,” My words are slightly slurred. I’m horrified. This is not a good look. “Said she can’t see me making bad decisions. You’re a bad decision.”

I point to Mia, and then to Jeremy-Josh. 

“Then maybe you should tell her that,” Mia says slowly. She does that when she’s trying to be patronizing on purpose. I’m not used to being on the receiving end of her condescension. 

“Maybe you,” I say, “Should mind your own business.” 

I walk up to her and poke her in the chest, hard. It’s squishy. Wow, she’s got a lot going on up there. It feels inappropriate, so I push her shoulder instead. 

“Hey, come on, man. Back off.” Jeremy-Josh walks up in front of her. I blink, so surprised to see him being assertive for a change that I forget to be angry. “Heather’s been trying to get in touch with you for hours. She’s been blowing up our phones. Just...call her. She’s worried about you. Jesus, you’re a mess.”

Mia squeezes my hand for a moment, and then they go back inside. 

I stand outside on my own for a moment. The sudden silence after the frantic music inside is a relief, and the cool air is soothing in my lungs. I take a deep breath and call Heather’s number. It rings, and then it rings some more. The second time I try, it goes to voicemail. 

“Shit,” I mumble to myself. I need to figure out a way to fix this. I didn’t bring my car, but there’s an old bike lying by the stage that we use for coffee errands or just for messing around. I jump on it and start pedaling my way towards Heather’s place. She doesn’t live very far away, but in my drunken state, it takes me much longer than it normally would to get there. Thankfully, the roads are empty and I don’t get run over.

The lights are off downstairs when I get there. I guess I’ve missed dinner.

I throw a rock at Heather’s window, to no response. I pick a larger one this time, and it makes a satisfying thump. That one gets a reaction. She opens her window and her eyes bulge as they stare down at me.

“Are you crazy?” She hisses, “What are you doing here right now? Did you not get the message when I refused to take ten of your calls?”

“I just want to talk,” I mumble, “Just want to say I’m sorry. Please.”

I sound so wretched even to my own ears that she hesitates, and then carefully climbs out on to the roof and makes her way down. For such a short person, she’s surprisingly nimble. She wrinkles her nose as soon as she gets within five feet of me.

“God, you’ve been drinking. What is that? Why are your eyes...yellow? Are those contacts?” She leans closer and pushes my fringe out of the way.

I jerk back. I’m supposed to be wearing contacts. What happened to those? I can’t lie to her, so I don’t respond to her question.

“Heather...I love you,” I say instead. 

She sighs and drops her hand as if disappointed. That is  _ not  _ the reaction I hoped for. 

“Vee, you can’t get out of this by saying that to me right now. My dad was looking forward to meeting you, and you blew me off. You know how hard for my family to get used to me dating a girl, let alone someone in a band and-”

“Wouldn’t want to be a bad influence,” I say sarcastically. 

“You know what,” She says, “Right now, you are a bad influence. I’m out here talking to you in my pajamas when you’ve completely disrespected me and broken my heart, and expect me to instantly forgive you. No, Vee. That’s not how this works. You never talk to me about anything that matters, and then you do stuff like this - what if you overdosed on something tonight?”

“I’m not going to overdose,” I reply, “I can’t.”

“What does that mean?” Heather looks incredulous. 

“It means that I can’t,” I say again, “I’ve tried.”

She stares at me. “Vee, that’s...what the hell. What is going on with you? I’m just trying to understand.”

“You can’t understand some things. I love you, isn’t that enough?” I sound whiny, and I know it, but I can’t seem to stop. I’m not ready to tell her all the things that I know she deserves to hear. I’m enough of a problem already if she knows I’m a freak she’ll never want to be with me.

“No, Vee,” She says softly. “I’m sorry, but it isn’t. Please, just tell me.”

I take a deep breath. “I’m...magical.”

She freezes for a moment, and then shoves me away, hard. “Are you seriously going to treat this like a joke? Now? After everything?”

“I’m not joking! I’ve never lied to you, Heather.” I look into her eyes, hoping that she can understand me. “I can’t lie to you. Never.”

“I wish I could believe that, Vee. It just...it hurts so much, and I wish I could forget all of this and go back to how things were.”

“They can,” I tell her, miserable. She’s been nothing but good to me, and I’ve treated her terribly. I don’t deserve to be with someone like her. “Just forget that you ever met me.”

My eyes are blurry and stinging with tears. I wipe them away with the edge of my sleeve. Heather remains silent, staring at me with blank eyes. I feel a prickle of unease. 

“Can I help you?” She says, politely. “What...what am I doing out here?”

“Heather?” My voice is hoarse. Panic rises in my chest, and I can’t push it down. 

“Do I know you?” She says.

I can’t take this anymore. Somehow, I know that she isn’t playing a trick on me. I’ve done this. I’ve ruined this. I get back on the bike and pedal away as fast as I can. I pedal as fast as I can, without a destination in mind. If I keep going, maybe I can get away from everything. When I finally stop, panting, I find myself in front of a small pub with a sign that reads ‘The Lucky Boar’.

I pull my hood up and enter.

The place is dimly lit, but clean and pristine looking. I expect a place like this to be very old world, wooden, but it almost looks like a mid-century diner. The colours are bright and garish, and the seating is predominantly booths. Only one of them is currently occupied.    
  
“Vivienne,” one of the guys gets up and pulls a chair up as an open invitation for me. “Glad to have you.”

I hesitate for a moment, and then go sit down. I place the card from earlier on the table in front of me. “I was told that I would find answers. You can start by telling me who the hell you are.”

“They call me Ghost,” He smiles. “And I know a thing or two about your father that you may be interested in.”

I let my breath out in a huff, irritated. “Yeah, yeah. He’s a magical faerie lord called Madoc who is determined to hunt me down and keep me as a weird sort of prize because he has attachment issues with my mother.”

He stares at me. “Is that...is that so? I was talking about Justin Duarte.”


End file.
